


It Never Happened! (series #4)

by sweepeaspatch



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-14 23:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 27,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14147064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweepeaspatch/pseuds/sweepeaspatch
Summary: Total denial by any and every means possible.





	1. That Final Day, NOT

**Author's Note:**

> Story Listings:  
> 1\. That Final Day, NOT!  
> 2\. Not a Dream  
> 3\. Catherine Saves Us All (6 parts)  
> 4\. Thwarted (4 parts)  
> 5\. Exorcism... a Hallowe'en special (4 parts)  
> 6\. It NEVER Happens!! (10 parts... or is it 11?)  
> 7...WiP...

**That Final Day, NOT!**

Richard is on the deck but he would never sit in the centre. Not in the sun! He’s moved into the shade along the side. He is drowsing, dreaming of Camille.

Suddenly his eyes fly wide and green and shocked. His heart stutters in his chest. A thin thrumming sensation pins him in place.

Screaming. Someone is screaming! High pitched.

James is pushing past him, almost falling over the rail, shouting, Roger beside him. They are pointing and yelling. They run off. Something about Sasha? Sasha over the rail? Angela is here now, wailing.

He staggers up out of the chair. Why does it feel like he is pushing against an immovable force? He grips the rail and joins Angela in looking down at the tiny smashed body on the jungle slope below.

Slowly, slowly, he came back to himself.

Ah, yes. He is D. I. Poole of the Honoré Police Force on Sainte-Marie in the Caribbean. Of course he is. The curtain is going up. Time to act.

He makes the calls. He asks Angela to go back inside. Not to touch anything. She looks at him with shining eyes. This is the Richard she dreams of. Masterful. Authoritative.

A bit later

The body is being loaded into the ambulance. Fidel shows Richard an evidence bag and they both regard it curiously. It glints. “Why would she have an ice pick, sir?”

“Good question, Fidel. Fingerprint it, will you?” Fidel nods. Richard joins Camille inside.

Roger did not see the accident. He heard the scream and ran out with James. Before that, everything seemed normal. He did not notice anything unusual until asked about the ice pick, “Well, now that you mention it, there was one strange thing. I saw James hand her something from the counter. She put it into her pocket then went out onto the deck. I never saw what it was.”

Angela also noticed something unusual before the accident, “When Sasha went out onto the deck, James watched her so intently that he zoned right out. I was talking right to him and he didn’t hear a word I said. Oh, Richard! Isn’t it lovely when two people are so in love that they watch each other as if their very lives depended on it?” She eats him up with her eyes.

Richard sits back a bit, “Oh, er, quite.” He is very intently NOT looking at Camille. If he had, he would have seen her look of alarm as she watched Angela watch Richard. It might have saved him a bit of angst. Regaining his composure, he continues, “And no idea why she had an ice pick?”

“No. No idea at all. Why would you need an ice pick somewhere there was no ice?”

James is no help. He didn’t know anything about an ice pick. He didn’t know anything about anything, “She just screamed and went over the rail!”

Camille perks up. Richard sees it and is proud. She is so sharp, so focused, so good at this. “She screamed THEN went over the rail? Surely she went over the rail THEN screamed?”

“NO! She screamed then fell over the rail.”

“That rail is too high to simply fall over. Did she trip? Stumble?”

“No. She seemed to wave her hands around her face and then she was gone.”

Turning to Richard, Camille asks, “And you were asleep? Did you hear anything? See anything?”

“No, Camille. I was dreaming. I heard the scream. When I opened my eyes, she was gone and everyone was shouting. Nothing else.”

“Dreaming? Could your subconscious have recorded something? What were you dreaming about? Is there anything that could tie into this case?”

He hesitates, “No… nothing about the case, but, perhaps later we could talk? I think it’s time I reveal some facts pertinent to another important matter.” He meets her eyes guardedly. She is surprised, contemplative, pleased. She nods and he smiles. They go back to work.

Angela watches them interact, her happy smile fading bit by bit. She sees it.

Later yet

It is a great puzzle. It isn’t murder. It isn’t suicide. It must be an accident. Except for the ice pick. That bothers everyone.

A few days later, a package from England arrives that explains it all. James is arrested. He finally explains the ice pick but insists it was his wife’s idea. Roger and Angela’s testimony prove otherwise. Case closed.

Three days later, Richard is sitting on his porch, enjoying one of the tens of thousands of sunsets left in his lifetime. Camille is nestled on his lap. It’s been a very busy three days and nights. He sees a flash of green and Harry is there.

“Oh, hello, you. Where have you been this past week?”

He sits up, rather difficult to do when draped in Bordey, “Camille! Harry is limping!!”

END – That Final Day, NOT!


	2. Not a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could happen...

**Not a Dream**

His sleep is broken again by her sudden start and gasp as she reaches out to touch him in the dark.

He catches her hand, folds it to his chest, slips a comforting arm around her, holds her as she cries and shudders herself awake, “Easy. Easy. It’s all right, I’m right here. Everything is all right.”

“Blue! It’s blue! Oh, Richard…” she moans against his shoulder.

“What’s blue? What is it? Please tell me? You can’t keep having this nightmare.”

“Your death. Your death is blue. Don’t go near it. Don’t let it near you. Stay with me.” She cries softly, hopelessly.

He is at a loss. Every night this week, the same dream, the same tears, the same plea. Of course he will stay with her. She is his heart’s delight, his reason for living. As she eases under his touch, her breath slowing, her body warming, he makes a decision.

“Dearest, we are going to take a holiday. Just we two. Anywhere you like. We can leave tomorrow. Anything to shake you out of these night-terrors. When we get back, we’ll announce our engagement and start our new life together. Does that help at all?”

Sleepily, she murmurs, “Oh, yes! Thank you. I just have to get off the island! And you have to come with me. Let’s catch the ferry first thing, go to Guadeloupe. We can stay at the same resort where we had our chocolate adventure.”

He laughs, “Ah, yes, the Chocolate Weekend. But this time, let’s find our wedding rings, yes?”

Sighing deeply, “Yes!” she slides on top of him, twining her fingers in his, “Thank you for sharing.”

“Sharing what?” She can hear his smile in the greying darkness.

She wriggles from head to toe, “All this! Everything. So nice, so YOU, so… Richard.”

He sighs in turn, another early morning then. He slips his heels over hers, pushes their linked hands up over his head, stretching her taut atop him, “Yes, so nice, so you…”

She breaks the kiss, “But, Richard, if we leave tomorrow you will miss your class reunion.”

He laughs incredulously, “Miss it? I don’t want to see them again. Sod it. We’re off.” He pushes her hands up to the railing at the head of the bed, “Here, grab hold.”

“Why?” but he can tell she already knows why. The minx.

“So I can do this.”

Her moans greet the dawn.

Hearing this, he is completely happy.

This dawn and every dawn to come.

For years and years.

END – Not a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so there!


	3. Catherine Saves Us All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I will never give up saving this character's life!!  
> Sorry to everyone who has to put up with my hobby... ok, obsession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6-parts, 1/day, just like vitamins!

**Catherine Saves Us All**

Part 1 of 6

When Richard came into La Kaz with a group of strangers, he was acting so stiff and reserved… well… MORE stiff and reserved… that Catherine’s routinely alert radar went off with a ‘bang’.

It banged again when he ordered tea all round and everyone sat at a back table. _Richard? With guests?_ Watching carefully, she realizes they are guests he is NOT comfortable with. Not at all.

He keeps shooting nervous glances to the slim brunette… which ups the ‘bangs’ to ‘pows’. _Who is this hussy? Why does she deserve such attention?_ She notices the husband leaning in possessively, trying to shield his wife from Richard’s questions. _What? Richard? Pursuing a married woman!_ Catherine is on the phone to her daughter within moments. Hanging up, she watches the scene play out, hoping Camille can get here in time to salvage the situation.

While she waits, Catherine is most alarmed to see the actions of the blonde woman with the group. The ‘pows’ go to DefCon1! She is fawning over Richard like a starved calf, which, she’s very relieved to see, he resists with a practiced manner. _So!! In love with one and loved by a second. Who would have thought it possible? There must be more under that suit than meets the eye! Oh, hurry, Camille!_

When Camille DOES arrive, out of breath and incredulous, Catherine shoves her towards the table of Brits, not caring in the slightest that she is sending her daughter into the lion’s den. _Richard! Save Richard! If the brunette isn’t interested, the blonde certainly is!! Foolish man… so easily swayed by a pretty face and demure ways. Doesn’t he know he is already spoken for?_

She watches as Richard shoots to his feet, jolted out of whatever ridiculous dreams he has of stealing away someone else’s wife, and introduces Camille to the group. There is some raucous conversation before the strangers excuse themselves and leave. The husband seems to be holding his wife’s arm rather tightly as they pass by Catherine on their way out. _Good, Mr. Better-Be-Careful, keep a tight rein on her and get her out of here!!_

She watches Richard and Camille talk quietly for a moment before he leaves too. Catherine homes in on her daughter as soon as his back is turned, “WELL? Who is the brunette? Why is Richard so smitten with her? Who is the blonde? Does she really think she stands a chance with him? What are we going to do about this catastrophe?”

Camille sits her Maman down and pats her hand, trying to calm her. This agitation is unusual. Why is Maman so upset? “Relax, they are old school chums here on vacation and it is pure coincidence that they met Richard on the street just now. Something IS bothering him, though. He’s very interested in Sasha, the brunette, but NOT in the way you think. He thinks something is wrong and he’s gone back to the station to begin checking things out.”

“Oh, cheri, it’s much more than that! I have a sense that something awful is looming. Keep him away from those women! You have to protect what is yours.”

“Maman, really! He isn’t mine, at least, not in that sense. We’re just close friends. That’s all he wants right now and I can’t rush him.”

“Well, you’d better think about rushing him! This situation is dangerous. I feel it in my bones!”

“After tomorrow’s little reunion up at their villa, the group leaves in just a few days. So you can stop worrying.”

“Tomorrow? Reunion? Oh, you have to go with him. Don’t let him go alone… not alone… not with those people! It will be the end of him… and you.”

“I certainly will not! I can’t weasel my way into the invitation. That would be rude.”

“Well, if you can’t, I will!” and Catherine marches up to the station despite Camille’s best efforts to talk her mother out of it.

When Catherine sails into the station, Fidel and Dwayne bolt to attention in surprise. The determined look on Catherine’s face tells them to stay well out of whatever is going to happen! They see Camille hovering out on the veranda and quickly join her, listening in on the ensuing lost cause as their Chief vainly tries to persuade her NOT to join him on the morrow.

Catherine has a firm ‘Why’ for every ‘Why Not’ he presents. When she glides back outside, she smiles in triumph to the trio, “It is done. I will be on his arm tomorrow to uphold the honour of Honoré.” As she passes her daughter, she murmurs low, just for her ears, “… and the honour of the Bordey women!”

Camille sighs and closes her eyes, _Oh, Maman, give it up!_

The trio cautiously re-enter the office to see the Chief busy on his computer. As they quietly take their places at hastily abandoned desks, he wryly comments to the room in general, “A French woman in full flow cannot be brooked, can she?”

Dwayne and Fidel shake their heads. No, she cannot! Especially THAT one.

All three men then look to Camille and she has to shake her head in turn, “Sorry… I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She is VERY upset about something, I don’t exactly know what…” then says to Richard, “… but you can handle her, right?”

He snorts, “I can’t handle YOU. What makes you think I can handle your progenitor?”

This comment gets sideways looks from Fidel and Dwayne and gives Camille a pleasant warm glow that lasts the rest of the day. Baby steps. Always the baby steps. She takes what she can get.

Richard spends all day on the computer, tracking down something. Later he makes a phone call to the UK. It is all very mysterious. Later still, after much silent thought at his desk, he slips out and returns with a wrapped parcel. Everyone is curious but he just shakes his head, “I’m playing a hunch. If I’m wrong, no harm, no foul. If I’m right, well…”

“You, sir? A hunch?” Fidel ventures.

“Ah, the heat has finally gotten to you, has it, Chief? Best you make an early night of it then,” offers Dwayne with a laugh.

Fidel is watching the Chief, nods to himself, “Just the same, Dwayne, you’d better ready the cells for occupants. He’s never wrong, you know that.”

Dwayne glances from Fidel to the Chief and back again. Nodding, he gets up and starts towards the cell area.

Richard stands and says to Dwayne as he passes, “You know? I think you’re right. I have a big day tomorrow, what with the reunion and all. I think I WILL go home early. I have some reading to do…” As he passes Camille’s desk, he looks down at her with a private smile, “… and your mother to brace myself for.”

She ducks her head and nods. _Oh, Maman, don’t let him find out anything I don’t want him to know yet!_

END – part 1 – Catherine Saves Us All


	4. Catherine Saves Us All

**Part 2 of 6**

The next morning, two people get out of a black taxi in front of a luxurious villa. The man offers his arm and the woman takes it as her due. As they walk to the door, he says, “I may be working a case here. I’ll know better once I talk to… Sasha.”

Catherine huffs, “Ah, yes, HER. She’s a married woman, you know, and not to be trifled with!”

Richard shoots her a glance, “I know that, Catherine. Please set your mind at ease, I’m not interested in her…” then adds very quietly, “… not any more.”

She whirls on him, “So! You WERE interested in her at one time! Does Camille know?”

He stops, thinks, “Camille? Why would Camille care? My past is my own business… and I’d prefer to keep it in the past. Soon as I’m done with my talk, we can leave. I don’t really want to spend time with these people. I don’t want to stir up too many painful memories.”

Mollified but still cautious, she pats his arm, “Of course, chéri. That’s OUR job… to give you better memories… perhaps even…” but she stops. Camille had spent many minutes earlier in the day warning her not to divulge TOO much. _What is this ‘baby steps’ she keeps talking about?_

They knock, wait, then enter on their own. Everyone turns as if they’d forgotten he was coming.

Richard, being the only gentleman in the room, says smoothly, “Everyone, I’d like to introduce Madame Bordey, a close friend and local business woman. I hope you don’t mind I invited her to round out our numbers.”

Their surprise at seeing her lasts only a moment. The men smirk knowingly. Catherine’s hackles go up. _Pigs... and none of your business if it WERE true._ The women look shocked. Catherine tightens her grip on Richard’s arm. _Oh, ladies, if you only knew the plans I have for this fine man!!_

It is painful to witness. Catherine can NOT believe the rudeness of these so-called ‘friends’. They treat Richard so disdainfully, so dismissively. She looks at them… sloppy and loud… then to him… perfect and quiet. No comparison. None at all. He is like a diamond in a vein of coal.

The drinking has already started! Slapdash use of the icepick too! What buffoons.

When Richard asks for tea, Catherine commandeers the kitchen, taking him in with her. As she puts the cup down before him, she leans in, “These are awful people! Friends, you say?”

He gives a tiny shake of his head as he sips, “No, they never were. I just didn’t know it.”

Catherine jerks her chin minutely towards Angela who is hovering just out of ear-shot, “And THAT one! Don’t you dare encourage her! My work is cut out for me if I have to keep her off you for very much longer.” She sniffs.

He smiles, “Too right! You’re doing a good job, by the way. Kiss me on the cheek and she’ll explode!” Smiling, Catherine does just that. It is most gratifying. “Can you watch my back for a moment?” he then murmurs, “I’m going out onto the deck to speak to… whoever that is. Won’t be long.” So saying, he saunters out, side stepping Angela deftly yet politely.

Catherine watches Angela watch Richard. _Poor woman. If she were French, she’d throw down the gauntlets and fight for him… but… being English… poor woman._

It is about 30 minutes later after much stiff conversation, poor manners, and alcohol that the silly idea of Charades is raised. Catherine rolls her eyes. Honestly, are these adults or children? The very idea of Richard playing such a farcical game!

Richard, quite rightly, refuses to play. Catherine joins him out on the deck while hilarity ensues inside. How can four people make so much noise?

“Is it time to leave yet, Richard? I am getting the head-ache.”

“I’m ahead of you on that front, my head is splitting. It’s hard being polite to people you don’t like.”

“Tell me about it, chéri, but I’ve had much more practice than you, perhaps? At La Kaz?”

“Oh, really? And how many cut-throats and murderers have YOU handled lately?”

“Hmm,” she returns his speculative gaze. She leans over to whisper into his ear, “You know, I just realized that you and I are more alike than we are different.”

He smiles, “Except for the obvious, of course.”

She sits back, “Oh, that. Well, you can’t help being a man.”

He laughs, “I meant being French!”

She swats his arm, “Oh, you! Always with the quip. At any rate, did you find out what you needed to know? Is there a case here for you?”

He nods, “Oh, yes, I’m sure of it. My radar is blaring. Time to go. You go in and I’ll follow you in a minute or two. Tell them you have ‘the head-ache’ and that’ll be our cue to leave.”

“All right, chéri.” Over his shoulder she sees the brunette and her husband watching them with a strange look in their eyes. “They are watching us,” she whispers.

“Good,” he whispers back, “I let her know I’m suspicious of them. Maybe they’ll do something stupid and give themselves away. I love wrapping up a case in 24 hours… does my street cred a marvelous turn.”

Seeing Angela moping by the door, she leans in to kiss his cheek once more, “Oui, our magic man, so wonderful to be protected by the best.”

“Cut it out, no one will believe that someone like you could possibly be interested in someone like me.”

“Really? Hmm, perhaps you aren’t the great detective you pretend to be, then.” Leaving him speechless, she rose and entered the house, passing Angela like a yacht passing a dingy.

Once inside, she waited at the back of the room for Richard to re-enter and…

… so

… saw everything.

END – part 2


	5. Catherine Saves Us All

**Part 3 of 6**

She sees the husband and wife watching Richard. That look… she’s seen it before. Where? It is a deadly look, full of menace, full of fear and hate… Ah! Yes! She’s seen it only twice before; once when Leon Hamilton had been exposed and once when Aidan’s base betrayal had been revealed!

These people mean Richard harm! Right here. Right now.

She sees the wife clutch at her husband’s arm.

She sees the husband snatch up the icepick from the counter and give it to his wife.

She sees the wife hide the icepick against her side and start out onto the deck where Richard still sits with his back to the house.

There is a mighty crash in her ears and everything goes silent.

There is a flash as colour bleeds out of the world and everything goes grey.

Fire races down her body from crown to heel and ice surges in her veins.

A blur, a bump, and fragile bones are grinding in her hand as she crushes the woman’s wrist in her grip. Blazing daggers should have scooped out the woman’s eyes but, instead, something clatters to the floor where it bounces harmlessly out onto the deck.

Richard, coming out of his chair at the woman’s cry, walks over carefully, seeing Catherine’s aspect and knowing something important has just happened. Standing in front of the frozen tableau, he looks down, stoops, and picks up the icepick. He stands, regards it for a long time. No one else moves.

His eyes flick up, cold as green ice, and, perhaps, Catherine thinks, this woman truly sees him for the first time, “Mind telling me why you were coming out onto the deck with an icepick in your hand?”

The wife cannot speak. She can only stare back at him in shock. The husband rushes up, makes a big production of needing the icepick and why did she have it? What a silly mistake, to carry away the icepick, can he have it back, please?

With a nod to Catherine, who releases the woman’s wrist and steps back, Richard actually hands it over! Catherine is astounded, turns to him, but his tiny head shake silences her. This must be part of his plan, whatever it is.

Meanwhile, Roger has helped Angela back to her feet. In hind sight, Catherine now remembers knocking the blonde down while somehow transporting herself across the room in the instant it had taken to prevent a murder...

... a murder... Richard... Catherine feels all the blood rushing out of her head. Richard sees her blanch and takes her arm as she begins to faint, “Please excuse us, Madame Bordey is not feeling well, a head-ache. We’ll be going now. Thank you for the... walk down memory lane. Things are not always as we remember them, are they?”

With that, they exit the house. He sits her down on the bench by the front door and calls for Camille to come get them. No one comes out to check on them. It’s as if they were never there in the first place. _Fine with me_ , she thinks, _what awful people, and…_

Colour and sound slams back into the world and she bolts to her feet, “RICHARD!”

He is by her side, sitting her back down, soothing her. She moves jerkily, like a puppet with tangled strings, finally sitting down and allowing him to calm her. That’s how Camille finds them, sitting side by side, her head on his shoulder, holding hands, for all the world like two children who have just escaped from the dark forest and wanting to go home.

END – Part 3


	6. Catherine Saves Us All

**Part 4 of 6**

Camille comes out to Richard where he sits at a table at La Kaz, a cup of tea cooling and forgotten in front of him. “How is she?” he asks.

“Resting. She’s had an awful shock. I can’t believe it! Who would try something so desperate in front of witnesses? Don’t they know you? How did they think they could get away with it?”

“One… they are very desperate, there’s a fortune at stake here. Two… no, they don’t know me, not now. Three… if they had succeeded, I wouldn’t be here to catch them. But for your dear sweet mother, I’d be on a slab in the morgue right now.”

The galvanic shudder that passes through her body feels too big to be possible.

She can’t speak... there’s no air… there’s no…

He sees this and surges out of his chair to catch her. He guides her to sit in his chair while he draws up another, “Does fainting run in the family? That’s twice I’ve had a woman in my arms today, way above my usual quota.”

Trying to smile, she jokes, “Don’t forget Angela. Maman told me all about her too. You were quite the Lothario back in the day.”

He flushes slightly, “Far from it, as you well know.”

His look confuses her but she can’t dwell on it right now. This awful situation is just too monstrous, “Can’t we arrest them? You’re not safe until they’re behind bars!”

“No, not yet. I’m expecting a package soon that should help in my inquiries. Until then, we let them stew in their fear and maybe they’ll try another stupid stunt.” He places a careful hand over hers on the table top, “Please let me say once more, I am SO glad your mother saw fit to protect me by coming to the reunion.”

Looking down at his hand so warm and alive on hers, she shudders again, “Yes,” she manages weakly, “…me too. It should have been me, you know. Maman tried to warn me but I wouldn’t listen. If I’d been there, I don’t know if I could have contained myself. I would have thrown her over the railing and laughed to watch her break on the rocks below!”

“Camille! Then I would have had to arrest you. Where would that have gotten you?”

“In your care, for one thing.”

He goes quiet. She bites her lip. They study the table top.

“Sorry,” she whispers, “it’s just that you could have died today while I cut out paper dolls at my desk. How could you have been in such terrible danger and I not know it? Now I’m afraid to let you out of my sight. Is that shock?”

His hand gives hers a gentle squeeze, “Shock… or…” His voice trails off, hesitant.

Their eyes meet and that’s how Catherine finds them, like two children lost in the woods and not wanting to come home.  Camille breaks the spell to go to her and together they fuss until she asks them to stop.

“I didn’t really do anything. I was just in the right place at the right time to see them set it up.” She turns to Richard, who has his game-face back in place, and asks him, “Now what?”

“Now we wait for further proof. I hope to resolve my suspicions with the next post.”

END – part 4


	7. Catherine Saves Us All

**Part 5 of 6**

It isn’t the next post that reveals all… it is the very next night.

It’s a Friday night and La Kaz is jumping. Dwayne is partying like no tomorrow. Fidel is on duty up on the hill but he can hear the music and is glad he’s not in the thick of it. Richard and Camille are at the very back wall, in the quietest corner they can manage, and trying very hard to tell each other what they need to hear.

Catherine is watching them with great interest. Somehow, she feels this is the night! Finally! She will keep an eagle eye on them until it is done. After yesterday’s shock, the promise of grandchildren is the only cure.

Just as she is turning away, a slight movement, a secretive breath of air, something… draws Catherine’s attention to the back wall. There’s nothing back there but storage and a bit of a waste area and then the street. Why did she suddenly sense there is someone standing back there in the dark? Waiting. Waiting for what?

A commotion starts up at the front of the building. People are turning to look, turning away from the back room. Catherine sees Camille and Richard appear in the doorway, listening to the raised voices. Camille motions for Richard to stay behind where it’s safe and goes forward to investigate.

Over Richard’s shoulder, Catherine sees shadows. One is moving.

Without thinking, Catherine sweeps up the pitcher of rum drink into her right hand from the metal tray that she was bringing to their table (to ‘help things along’) and steps quickly to Richard. He is surprised by her sudden appearance, seeing as she’d been hovering in her own shadows keeping an eye on the grandchildren situation. He is even more surprised when she slides the now empty tray in behind him to cover his back.

She bumps none too gently up against him and they both feel the shock of something hitting the tray at his back. Richard whirls and Catherine looks over his shoulder. They stare into the eyes of the husband, wide with anger and fear. Richard’s gaze drops briefly. Catherine can’t see what he sees but she is sure it is the ice pick. _How stupid, using a weapon I can identify,_ she thinks.

When the man looks from Richard to her, she realizes that he means to kill her too. But, first, he has to get Richard. As he is drawing his arm back for another, lower, stab, Catherine feels a bolt of lightning roar through her from heels to nape as her right arm roundhouses the drinks pitcher into his temple, dropping him is a shower of glass, ice, and lovely rum libation.

END – part 5


	8. Catherine Saves Us All

**Part 6 of 6**

She lowers the tray. Together, they look down at the bleeding unconscious man. In the stunned silence she hears a calm voice, “I’m so sorry, chéri. I’ve ruined your suit.” 

An equally calm voice replies, “It’ll clean.”

She is just beginning to brush glass shards out of his hair and he is trying to mop rum off his face with not one but TWO handkerchiefs when they hear a scream of rage and the wife rushes up, Camille and Angela on her heels. Suddenly, there is a gun in the wife’s hand… _Merde! Will this hell never end?_

The wife finds herself grappling with two furious French women while the English one wails in confusion.

Richard steps in neatly and plucks the waving gun out of the air, “That’s enough, Helen. Game over.” The woman visibly shrinks but Camille and Catherine keep a grip on her. Crazy people can do crazy things.

He nods to Camille and she cuffs… Helen? She leans towards Richard, “Isn’t this Sasha?”

He leans in, “I’ll tell you later. Call Fidel.” She nods.

Dwayne finally pushes his way through the milling crowd and takes control of the crime scene. While Richard calls for the ambulance, Dwayne tells him how the two women had started a fight out in the front room, something about the blonde’s pathetic pining for some loser guy from her past, “It was very entertainin’, Chief. For a minute I thought they might be talkin’ about you but you’re no loser... no way. Must be some other fella.”

Richard and Camille share a look, brief but rife with meaning, “Yep… some other fella.”

Fidel arrives. Sasha/Helen is taken away. Dwayne and Camille take control of the crowd, get everything back under order and secure the crime scene.

The ambulance arrives. The husband is taken away.

Fidel returns with crime gear and begins collecting evidence. Dwayne begins processing the witness statements. No need to bother the Chief, they know their jobs.

Camille, temporarily free, looks for Richard. She finds him in the back room… sees Maman embracing him… and he is embracing her! Her mother is talking fast and low and he is listening and nodding. Finally, Maman holds up 2 fingers, smiles and kisses his cheek, steps away and sees Camille in the doorway. She takes her daughter’s arm and turns her away so Richard can come to terms with his new reality.

“WHAT was that all about?” Camille rasps.

“Oh, chérie, relax. I was just telling him the facts of Life and he finally agrees with me. See? He wishes to speak with you.”

Camille turns back. Richard is beckoning. Something in his eyes makes her almost leap to his side. Catherine smiles to see her go. _So. At last._ Catherine leaves them and goes to the front room where she finds Angela watching the crowd in dazed shock.

She touches Angela’s arm. Angela jumps and turns, “I don’t understand? What’s going on? Why was Sasha arrested? Who attacked James? Where’s Richard? I need Richard!!”

Catherine calms her, draws her back from the crowd and turns her to look into the quiet back room where two people are locked in a tight eager embrace, oblivious to all else.

“I believe Richard will be quite busy for the rest of his life. Go home, chérie. He is ours now.”

She pats Angela’s slack arm and leads her back to Fidel who takes her as a material witness. She indicates a very drunken Roger as well. Fidel nods and takes him aside too.

“Dwayne, Fidel, please carry on. D. I. Poole will be with you soon... but not TOO soon as he is attending to more pressing matters at the moment.”

They see her satisfied possessive air and smile in turn.

Dwayne elbows Fidel, “Come on, let’s you an’ me live up to the Chief’s standards, seein’ as he is temporarily side-lined an’ all!”

Fidel grins, “Finally!”

They wade in manfully, under the watchful eye of the Chief’s soon-to-be newest relation, happy to be part of the finest team Saint-Marie has ever known.

END – Catherine Saves Us All


	9. Thwarted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will post daily

**Thwarted**

Part 1 of 4 

He is sitting on the lounger… ignored as always… alone and wondering why he is even here… when a whisper makes him look up just in time to see a flash of blue and the gleam of sharp metal near his face. His hands surge up of their own accord and the fatal stab goes awry. There is a piercing pain in his chest and they both look down to see red blossoming on his immaculate shirt front… an ice pick inserted an inch, perhaps more, into his body. He slowly pulls it out. It hurts. A lot.

He climbs unsteadily to his feet, the ice pick held between them as he looks into her eyes and knows irrefutably that this is NOT Sasha. Someone else is looking back in hate… and it isn’t Sasha. The woman is still straining to slip the blade between his ribs, lips bared in a feral snarl that breaks his heart. He twists and the weapon falls with a quiet sound onto the chair. Over her shoulder he sees the husband watching tensely from just inside the house. The man is readying himself to come to his wife’s aid and Richard knows he will not be able to fight both of them off.

He sees someone else and calls out as loud as he can, “Angela! Please come here. I need you!”

Her head comes up as if hearing a clarion call and she is beside him in a trice, her eyes shining and hopeful, “Yes, Richard? What can I...?” She sees the blood and stutters into silence, aghast.

As he cuffs ‘Sasha’ with his last remaining strength he says very slowly, “Angela, I think you just saved my life. Please look around. What do you see?”

“I see you, Sasha, blood on your shirt, a chair…”

“What is on the chair?”

“An ice pick. A bloody ice pick. Richard, what…?”

“Please don’t touch anything. Did I have the ice pick when I came out here earlier?”

“No. Someone must have brought it out here…” Her alarmed eyes fly to the woman in blue.

“Do you see James?”

She turns and looks back into the house, “No. I passed him in the doorway but now…”

He staggers slightly, “Please stay with me while I make a call.” He holds ‘Sasha’ with one hand, pulls out his cell and makes a call. He falls to one knee as he murmurs, “Camille… I’m stabbed… send an ambulance...”

When Camille charges wild-eyed onto the deck minutes later with Dwayne and Fidel on her heels, they find Richard almost unconscious and kneeling in the embrace of a hysterical blonde who is holding him as if he were a life buoy and she were in shark-infested waters. The shock of seeing Richard’s blood seeping out from between the blonde’s fingers almost allows a sullen brunette to make it past them but Dwayne sees the Chief’s cuffs and takes her into custody.

A man staggers around the deck, shouting at everyone, “What the bloody hell is going on?!!”

No one knows… until Camille pries Richard out of the blonde’s arms and he comes to briefly and tells her to track down the husband. Then he clutches at Fidel, “I’m growing numb… I think it might be poison… check the kitchen…” Fidel is gone like a shot and crashing noises flood out into the bright sunlight. Moments later he is chasing after the EMS people as they wheel Richard to the ambulance. He leaps into the back and there is a hurried consultation as the attendants check labels and hook up new IV bags and administer needles pulled out of kits.

Camille joins Fidel and they stand in the house doorway, watching the receding lights. She feels the tingle in her arms where she’d held Richard for a few precious seconds. With thunderous gaze she turns back to the house just in time to meet Dwayne right behind her.

“I’ll handle the suspect, Sergeant,” he says to her. “You need to interview the witnesses. Fidel needs to collect the evidence, startin’ with that bloody ice pick out on the deck. I’ve already alerted all the points of possible egress to watch out for the husband.”

She flares up, “NO! I want to…”

His hands come down on her shoulders with firm force, “There is NO way I’m gonna let you anywhere near that woman. Angela is very upset. You need to talk to her before she collapses in shock and we lose her too. The man, Roger, is ready to pass out. C’mon, Camille, chop chop.”

Camille hears all this… hears but doesn’t want to listen. Then another little voice, HIS voice, sounds in her ear, _Come on, Sergeant, do you job. I’ll be fine if only you will do your job._ She covers her face in grief, “Oh, Dwayne! He could die! He could die and we were playing silly buggers back at the station!”

“I know… but he isn’t dead, is he? The EMS guys said he was in shock and sufferin’ from a bit of blood loss but otherwise OK.”

Fidel growls to life, “… and the ant poison, let’s not forget that!”

They wheel on him, “What?”

“The Chief told me he suspected poison just before he passed out. Sure enough, the bottle was under the sink but the top hadn’t been put back on and the lip was still wet. I think they dipped the ice pick in it just to make doubly sure. The EMS people got him started on counter-measures right here in the driveway. I think he’s going to be OK.”

Camille flings her arms around the young man’s neck, “Oh, my god! You may have saved his life!”

Dwayne gently urges them back into the house where they do indeed do their jobs. It is hours before they can leave and be where they really want to be.

When Camille creeps into his hospital room, she gets a shock of her own.

Angela is there, holding Richard’s hand and they are quietly talking. His eyes when he notices Camille’s presence in the doorway hold such a foreign look that it takes her a few moments to place it. It… it’s… it’s the look of a man in love. When he smiles up at Angela, she stoops to kiss him before she says, “Ah, here’s your Sergeant. I’ll leave you to talk. This is something I know nothing about but…” she gives him a shy glance, “… I’ll have to make allowances now, won’t I?”

He smiles back, “Yes, you will. I’m an officer of the law and that is no small thing. We’ll talk later, OK?”

She nods and passes a thunder-stuck Camille in the doorway… a woman who is suddenly VERY happy passing a woman is suddenly very UNhappy!

It is some time before Camille remembers to breath, remembers to put one foot in front of the other to approach the bed where he… he… he is watching the doorway. Through frozen lips she manages, “Did I interrupt something?”

He huffs a laugh, “Well, yes, you did… seems that someone saving your life makes you see that person differently. I always thought Angela was a bit of a nuisance… but… she was there when I needed her and she came through in spades. She’s always been in love with me it seems… and now I… I return her regard. Soon as I’m well enough, I’ll be looking to transfer back to England… unless she wants to stay here, of course. Do you think she might?” He looks to her with real sincerity.

_Do I think she might_ , Camille agonizes? _What the f… OF COURSE SHE MIGHT! I WOULD! If only you’d ask me! Why didn’t you ever ask ME?_ Her heart stutters back into action and she leaves his room like a little wind-up toy… without answering the question.

End - Part 1


	10. Thwarted - part 2 of 4

Part 2 of 4

Dwayne finds her sitting in a hallway, head in hands, utterly motionless. He wouldn’t have even noticed her except she has blood smeared on her hands and… “Um, Camille? You OK? Oh, god! Is the Chief OK? He’s not… he’s not…?” He has her by the shoulders, shaking her.

Her head shoots up and she almost screams, “Dead? Is that what you want to know? No, he’s not dead… but he may as well be. He’s going back to England… with HER… with Angela! They are in love and as soon as he can manage it they are leaving and… and that’s that.”

Dwayne drops his hands, steps back, “What!? No! Not him! Not her! I always thought… you know…”

She covers her face and moans, “So did I, Dwayne, so did I. More fool, me, eh? But I never was his ‘cup of tea’ and now he’s made his choice and I have to live with it.”

He sits hurriedly beside her, takes her hand, “Maybe it was the drugs talkin’?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t think so. He was pretty lucid… and you saw how she behaved at the crime scene. If ever there was a woman in love with someone, she’s that woman. She’s been carrying a torch for him for 20 years, can you imagine? I’ve only got 2 years experience and I’ve barely scratched the surface. No, he wants to go back to his own kind and I can’t stand in his way.”

“Oh, girl, he doesn’t know WHAT he wants. She just got his attention first, that’s all! Have you ever told him how you feel?” She hunches over and is silent. “I didn’t think so.” He sits back with a sigh, “Well, THIS is a puzzle and no mistake! How are we gonna deal with it?”

She sits up wearily, “I’m going to deal with it by going home and getting drunk then sleeping… if I can.” She stands, looks down at him in defeat, “Oh, Dwayne, I’m heart-broken. Do you know the last time I ever remember a man breaking my heart?”

“No, I don’t.”

She turns away, “Neither do I. It’s a novel feeling and I don’t like it at all.” She strides away, head up, determined in her misery.

He watches her go then stands and strides off in the other direction, thinking, _Ah, Chief… you an’ me, we gotta TALK!_ When he walks through the door, he sees Angela stand up suddenly at the bedside. _Huh_ , Dwayne thinks, _snoggin’ in public! This is worse than I thought!_ “Sorry,” he says aloud, “can I have a moment with the Chief? Official business, you understand?” Angela nods, gives the Chief another long-suffering look and leaves once more.

Soon as her back is out the door, Dwayne swivels around and pins the Chief with the evil eye, “This is kinda sudden, isn’t it?”

The Chief gives him a ‘none of your business’ look then shrugs, “Maybe, I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before… not really.”

“Never? Is there… is there no one HERE that you… isn’t there anyone on the island that maybe…?”

The Chief huffs a put-upon breath, “I haven’t met a single woman in 2 years that wasn’t a murderer or guilty as hell about something else! Oh… AND mad as a bag of frogs! Not that it’s any of your concern but no, there’s no one. I can’t wait much longer and Angela has waited for me all these years. A brush with death tends to focus a person and I’m ready to take a chance. It’s Fate.”

“Fate?! You don’t believe in Fate!”

“Yes, I do! And coincidence… and hunches… and feelings…”

“Now I KNOW it’s the drugs talkin’! You don’ believe in ANY of those things. Even worse… you don’t believe in us!”

“How can you say that? You’re standing right in front of me! Of course, I believe in you. What’s this all about, Dwayne? I thought you’d be happy for me. You… and the rest of the team… have been harassing me to settle down so now I’m going to do it!”

“Yeah, but you’re leavin’ the island! We don’t want THAT! We want you to stay here with us!”

“Angela doesn’t want to live here. I’ve asked her. I have to go back.”

“I’m not talkin’ about Angela! I’m talkin’ about…” He falls silent. Just how far does he want to trespass into this man’s personal life? Far enough to save him from making a fatal mistake? Far enough to jeopardize whatever shaky friendship they’ve forged? Far enough to maybe make the man so angry that he won’t listen to anything a well-meaning friend has to say? He paces the room a couple of times, thinking. The Chief watches him in puzzlement. Dwayne makes up his mind, in for a penny and all that. He swings around and faces his boss, “I’m not talkin’ about Angela. I’m talkin’ about Camille.”

The Chief goes very still. All the colour washes out of his face and he says very quietly, “Choose your next words with great care, Officer Myers.”

Dwayne hears the threat… but also Camille’s monotone words from the hall… _Oh, Dwayne, I’m heart-broken_ … He takes a deep breath and looks his boss right in the eye, “You are breakin’ her heart, sir. That’s a fact. I’m not makin’ this up.”

“Sergeant Bordey was just in here and she didn’t say a word about… anything.”

“How could she? You told her you were in love and you’re goin’ back to England. What could she possibly say to that? Don’t go? I love you? Stay here for me?” The Chief is going whiter and whiter. Dwayne knows he’s stepped WAY over the line. He throws up his hands, “OK, OK. I can see you don’t want to hear any of this. I’m leavin’ now. Congratulations and felicitations and I wish you all happiness in your new life… even though you’re makin’ a BIG mistake.” He turns, walks to the door then says over his shoulder, “When you come to your senses… IF you ever do… you know where to find us. We’ll probably be waitin’ for you… that’s what real friends do… they wait and hope for a miracle.”

Richard stares at the empty doorway for a long time.

When Angela comes back several minutes later, she finds a very pensive fiancé… a silent fiancé… a man that seems to have a lot on his mind and it doesn’t involve her. She sits by his bedside and watches him. He doesn’t seem to see her at all. She folds her hands and waits… and wonders… _is THIS what being married to a policeman is going to be like? He won’t be able to talk about his work… he’ll never be home during murder cases… sure, she’ll have him all to herself FINALLY but… but…_ She suddenly remembers all the cop wives she’s known over the years. NONE of them had been happy. ALL of them were either widows or divorced.

Her smile wavers a bit and now there are TWO pensive people in the room.

END – part 2


	11. Thwarted - part 3 of 4

Part 3 of 4

The next day, Dwayne is surprised as hell to get a call from the Chief. Surprised and relieved. He’d tossed and turned all night, worried about the Chief taking umbrage at what he’d said to him. But no, the Chief seems hesitant, is asking him about…

“What’s that, Chief? The attack? Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. What made you look up at the exact moment she was tryin’ to murder you?”

“That’s what I’m calling about. There isn’t anyone else I can discuss this with… I hope you don’t think I’m being foolish but… I heard… I THOUGHT I heard a voice. I won’t be putting this into my report, naturally, because I was probably in shock but… a whisper… very soft and very close…”

Dwayne stills… uh oh, he doesn’t like the sound of this… “What did it say?” he manages.

“It said… it said… ‘no’…”

“No? Or know… as in, you know… knowing?”

“Well, I’m not sure, really. I was busy prying an ice pick out of my chest and not thinking about semantics. Does it matter?”

“These things ALWAYS matter, Chief. If it was ‘no’ then maybe it meant ‘no, you don’t’ or maybe ‘no, he’s mine’ or maybe even ‘no, it’s not his time’… or…”

“Dwayne, what ARE you rabbiting on about?”

“I’m tryin’ to interpret an unnatural occurrence down to our level of understandin’… to our plane of existence… tryin’ to make sense of it all. Maybe it was ‘know’ and you are supposed to figure somethin’ out…”

“Well, I DID figure something out! Sasha is really Helen and she’s going away for a LONG time. James too, as soon as they find him.”

Dwayne is nodding, thinking hard, “But, Chief, what about this Angela of yours? Is there somethin’ you should know about her?”

“Other than she’s loved me for over 20 years, you mean? What are you implying?”

“Nothin’, Chief. I’m just doin’ what you taught me and explorin’ all avenues of possibility.”

This mollifies the Chief somewhat, “Well, good… and I applaud your efforts but, really, there’s nothing I need to ‘know’ about Angela. She’s devoted to me and I’m going to take this last chance at happiness… so I’m very sorry but I still intend to go back to England.”

“All right, Chief. You know your own mind best.”

There is a beat of silence on the phone then the Chief asks almost casually, “Um, has Camille been in today?”

“No, Chief. It’s her day off and after yesterday’s shocks… ALL the shocks, you understand… I don’t expect she’s feelin’ too sociable. But she DID say she was a big girl and that she’d have to accept it so I imagine that’s what’s she’s doin’ today… tryin’ to accept it, you know?”

Another silence, “About that… you didn’t really mean those things that you said yesterday, did you? I mean… she and I have worked together for 2 years and she’s never ONCE…”

“Chief, I was only tellin’ you what she told me… and I probably shouldn’t have done that. If she finds out I let the cat out of the bag, she’ll kill me. Please don’t let on you know, OK? I’m not protected from her anger like you are… she don’t love me and she’ll rip my arm off and beat me with it. Promise me you won’t tell her?”

A shaky breath comes down the line, “I promise. And… thanks for being truthful. I didn’t sleep so well last night. The drugs are flushing out of my system and… I’m not as sure as I was yesterday. It’s a lot to take in, finding out a woman is in love with you in secret.”

“You’re a big boy, Chief. You can handle it… just like Camille has to handle HER disappointment, hey?”

“Er, right… disappointment. If you see her… will you tell her… will you ask her to…” Dwayne waits. Nothing is forthcoming. Finally the Chief just sighs and says goodbye and hangs up.

Dwayne hangs up at his end and puts his face into his hands at his desk. _Ah, man! This hurts. Everything hangs in the balance here and what am I supposed to do? Help Camille? Help the Chief? And what about Angela? If she truly loves the Chief then she has to be taken into consideration too. Maybe he SHOULD go back to England and give it a chance? Once all the dust has settled and everyone has had a chance to think… then maybe sense will reassert itself and everyone will know what to do?_

He stands, “This is WAY above my pay grade!” he tells the room and goes to get a fresh coffee.

When Fidel comes in for his shift, Dwayne leaves and is walking home when he suddenly finds himself standing at Camille’s front door. _Huh_ , he thinks, _why am I not surprised?_ He knocks, waits, knocks again. When Camille answers the door, he is shocked. She’s aged 5 years!

He takes her by the shoulders and ushers her back into the house, “Girl! What the HELL!? Did you sleep at all? Have you eaten? What’s goin’ on?”

She is disheveled and almost incoherent, “I meant wha’ I said… I’ve been drinkin’ and I’m not done yet!” She sweeps up a glass of something lethal looking and holds it aloft, “Here’s to Richard Poole an’ his lovely wife! May they live a long an’ happy life! Hey…” she sobs, “I’m a poet and don’ know it!”

Dwayne intercepts the glass and takes it out of her hand, “He’s not married YET, my girl. Come on, you are goin’ into the shower and you are goin’ to sober up!”

He fights her all the way up the hall and into the bathroom where he more of less forces her into the shower. He turns his back but stands in the door until she comes shivering to his side wrapped in a towel, “Good! Now coffee… lots and lots of strong coffee! Come on!” and he drags her into the kitchen where he perks the coffee and force-feeds it to her until she starts to come around.

He sits her down at the table and takes her ice-cold hands, “I talked to the Chief a coupla times already… I don’t think he’s so sure of his plans anymore. It’s all hearts an’ roses when someone tells you they love you… and he’s been so lonesome here, as you well know…” He levels a stern look at her which she avoids by drinking deep, “But, girl, you shoulda TOLD him already. It’s been 2 years! He’s a shy man! He can’t read your mind! You have to tell him so he has all the information he needs to make an informed decision! You know what it’s like… you have to have all the facts in order to solve the puzzle!”

She is crying. Dwayne is upset by this, takes her in a brotherly embrace and pats her back. “I know,” she hiccups, “I know… but how can I tell him when he’s already made up his mind? And I’m sure he doesn’t see me in a romantic light. He’s never said or done anything to indicate that he thinks about me as anything other than his sergeant!”

Dwayne takes a napkin from the condiments basket and dries her face, “I know, I know. He’s a very private man… and that gives me hope! Somethin’ he said to me today… it made me wonder. What if he truly didn’t realize your feelin’s for him? What if he thinks this Angela is his only chance… his only hope? If he knew somethin’… someone… BETTER was waitin’ for him… wouldn’t that change his mind?”

She sniffs and sits up, “You can’t be serious? Angela has waited 20 years for him! What have I got that can equal that? She must be mental… but so is he… and maybe they deserve one another! No, I can’t barge in with my pathetic tale of pining for him! He’d laugh at me!”

Dwayne pats her shoulder, “I don’t think so, Camille. He’s not the laughin’ type, is he? He’s all or nothin’. I’m sure that once he knows the truth…” He is suddenly quiet, “Know… know… was THAT the message he was given, I wonder?”

“What message?”

Dwayne comes to life, “Nothin’, nothin’. It’s just somethin’ the Chief said. He asked about you, you know.”

She wipes at her face, “He did? What did he say?”

“He wanted to know how you were. I told him you were pretty shook up. He didn’t really finish his sentence but I got the strong feelin’ that he wants to talk to you. Will you go see him? I think maybe you still stand a chance… if you handle him with kid gloves.”

She laughs shakily, “I don’t have any kid gloves… just my heart.”

“I’m sure that’s all you’ll need,” he says encouragingly. “Go see him. He sounded real upset.”

“OK, I will… but I may need another drink or three to get up the courage.”

“No. Just go. Maybe let him do the talkin’ this time. You never know… he may surprise you.”

When he leaves, she is in her room changing her clothes. He crosses his fingers as he walks down the street, “OK, you... whoever or whatever warned him in time… you’d better be payin’ attention because this can go sideways in so many bad ways! Please, take care of the pair of them. They need help.”

He waits and listens as he walks but hears nothing. He sighs. Sometimes silence is the only answer you get.

End – part 3


	12. Thwarted - part 4 of 4

Part 4 of 4

Meanwhile, Richard is having an epiphany of his own. Angela has been talking at him for several minutes now and his mind is just catching up with what she’s been saying. _Roger? What has Roger got to do with anything?_ Well, apparently Roger has been carrying a torch for Angela for 20 years! Been carrying a torch and saying nothing because Angela has been carrying a torch for Richard!! 

Richard shakes his head and looks down at his hand that is being held so coolly by Angela and tunes into her monologue once more.  “So, you see, Richard, Roger has checked himself into a rehab centre. He’s trying to get sober… for ME! Isn’t that romantic? He told me last night back at the villa that he’s always loved me but was afraid to say anything! And although I’ve loved YOU all these years… you’re really only a cherished dream… you couldn’t POSSIBLY be as perfect and wonderful as I think you are. No man can be THAT heavenly!"  

She takes a breath, checks his pale face, and continues, "Roger NEEDS me! I’ve been slighting him all these years because I was so obsessed with YOU… but now I see him for who he really is… a man deeply in love with me and willing to do ANYTHING to win my affections. How can I ignore that? How can I turn down such a sweet, romantic, desperate gesture as he’s making right now? I’m sure you understand?”  She holds his hand and smiles apologetically... no hard feelings... just a minor blip on Life's roadway... we can still be friends but...  


Richard is nodding without the slightest clue what to say. Yesterday he was drugged up, in love, and going home. Today he is sober, spurned, and abandoned. AGAIN!! He looks at Angela and wonders how he could have possibly mistaken her shallow fecklessness for true affection? A shiver runs down his back. He’d almost left his ISLAND for this woman! How could he have made such a blunder? He’d almost left… almost LEFT... 

... and, as if by magic, the object of his thoughts is suddenly framed in the doorway. 

Angela’s quacking hushes to nothing as he sees Camille… Camille in her red dress. He pulls his hand out of Angela’s chummy grasp and holds both out to the vision before him. Angela keeps talking… at least her lips are moving… but he doesn’t hear a single word. The woman in the red dress is hesitating on the cusp of fear and uncertainty… he can see it in her eyes! He sits up straighter and reaches out for her above Angela’s head and whispers, “Camille! My Camille…” 

Angela is almost knocked out of her chair as Camille rushes in, takes Richard’s hands, and is drawn down onto the bed. 

Angela is definitely pushed out of the picture as the couple on the bed begin a low rapid exchange of opinions and views that involves no one else. 

The blonde woman stands up, brushes herself off, and says, “Well, I’ve made myself clear, I trust? No hard feelings?” 

There is no response. 

“Um, well, then I’ll just go, shall I?” 

She is talking to no one. 

“Well, then, I’ll go. Roger is waiting for me and…” She frowns, shrugs, and leaves the room. 

He is holding her hands tightly… so tightly. “Richard, dearest, I have something to tell you... something to... to confess...” 

She smells so good, looks so good… that dress… he remembers that dress… he remembers dreaming about taking it off… dreaming… He shakes himself, _No, this isn’t a dream. This is real and I have to make it happen somehow! What did she just say? Something to tell me?_ He raises scared eyes to hers, licks his lips, “What do you have to tell me? Please let it be what I hope it is.” 

She hesitates again. She’s so scared but she’s here and she’s going to SAY it! “Please don’t leave. Stay. I want you to stay…” 

His hands tighten down on hers, “Stay? Why, Camille? Can you tell me why?” He kicks himself. _She’s never going to say it! You’re dreaming, Poole! She can’t possibly say…_  

But she IS saying it! His ears catch up as she says it again, “... love you. That’s why.” There is a frozen moment of stunned disbelief before his hands slip up her bare arms and he once more feels such a need to remove that dress! He laughs shakily, “It must be the drugs… but I thought you just said you... you love me?” 

She nods quickly and hides her face in his shoulder, “Please don’t be angry! I should have spoken up months ago…” His lips move silently… _months ago?_ “… but I didn’t know how to do it! The time never seemed right or we were fighting or something was always going on… getting in the way… and then when you told me about ANGELA…”  Her voice catches in a tiny sob.

He grips her shoulders tightly, sits up sharply, shakes his head, “For-GET Angela! She just gave me the heave ho! How could I ever think I was in love with her? I didn’t love her when I was a 22-year old idiot… I certainly don’t love her now! I just thought she was my only chance, you know? My only chance to be happy and taken as a man… but that was before I knew… before I…” 

She is looking at him with wonder and not a little bit of scepticism, “Before what?” 

He swallows. _Careful, Poole, don’t blow it all now by saying something stupid_ , “Before I realized that there is only one woman for me and it’s you. It’s YOU, Camille. How can it be anyone else? You are the only woman that knows me at all and still puts up with me. Who else can stand me for more than a fortnight without killing me stone cold dead in self defense? It HAS to be you.” 

There is a moment of frozen silence, then, “Boy! You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, don’t you?” she deadpans. 

His eyes widen in panic. _Oh, Poole! You DID it! You ruined it!_ He clutches her tighter, gasps in a desperate breath, “NO! I didn’t mean it like that! You’re not my last choice… you are my ONLY choice… you’re… I’m… Oh, Camille, help me!” 

She kisses him then. Hard. Forcing him back and back until he is pressed against the pillows and still she kisses him until she has to break off to gasp for oxygen. He lay on the pillows with a crooked smile and dreamy eyes, “Oh, yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s the help I’m talking about. Come here, woman in the red dress, and kiss me again.” 

She does. 

No one notices Angela return for her forgotten scarf. 

_Well, REALLY_ , she huffs to herself as she strides away, _he might have had the decency to wait until I was off the island before starting up with another woman! Roger would NEVER act so ungentlemanly, I’m sure!_

She pauses in the doorway, looks back and thinks, _how could I ever think he was perfect? Just look at him! He’s a brute!_ She turns, walks away, never knowing how close she came to true perfection here on earth. Not just The Damned are denied Paradise... sometimes it is simply the undeserving... or the unobservant.

So it came to pass that Richard Poole did indeed recover from his aborted attempted murder. Some people even talked about how he SOLVED his own murder… making his fame of being ‘the magic man’ irrefutable. When he walked out of the hospital, he was on the arm of a most beautiful woman. He was on the same woman’s arm three months later as church bells chimed and Mr. and Mrs. Poole finally faced the world together. 

END


	13. Exorcism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gets a bit M-ish...

**Exorcism**

Part 1 of 4

It’s late. The night has cooled off and breezes waft gently over the bed where the man sleeps in monastic solitude… but not in peace. Sleep is coming harder and harder of late... too many memories… too much pain and anguish.

Every day is more difficult than the last. She is everywhere in his desires… and nowhere in his life. Mental discipline is failing him for the first time. Mind over matter? Not anymore. His matter has become obdurate… pining for what it cannot have… what his mind will not allow. To add insult to injury even his mind is betraying him, allowing dreams that should never be acknowledged let alone run in Technicolour with Surround-sound!

Tonight’s unwanted mental festivities are rudely interrupted by someone pounding on a door.

The man sits bolt upright in bed, sheets twisted about his legs. Half-asleep, not quite free of the dream, he fumbles with the bedding, calls out, “Yep! I’m coming,” before stumbling to answer the summons... _It must be a murder! A bad one! No one pounds on a door in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency!_

Throwing open the kitchen door, he finds Camille slouched against the door jamb, shrouded in darkness, only the gleam of her eyes showing.

His body, still in sleep-mode and dreaming, reaches for her, wanting to continue where it left off before this unexpected awakening. His mind, slow to catch up, screams a warning just in time. His hands sweep out… do not take her in the intended embrace but instead continue up to scrub at his face. _Great move,_  he thinks, _nice recovery, didn’t look like a faux-pas at all!_ “Camille! What’s happened? Is it an emergency?”

She is smirking at him.

_Did she interpret my hand motions correctly? How? Somehow, she knows. Impossible. I’d better wake up! A sleep-befuddled Richard and a wide-awake Camille is a sure-fire recipe for disaster!_ He scrubs his face again, trying to get some blood to his brain but it doesn’t seem to be working. Noticing the direction of her gaze, he realizes why! He steps hastily back, turning to hide his obvious arousal, cursing himself for being careless. Before he can even begin to formulate the words that wouldn’t save him anyway, she speaks…

“There’s a ‘mergency, a’ right... jus’ not a murder… though it IS a crime... a shame an’ a crime!” Her words are slightly slurred and he hears the door slam... then he hears the lock click. Carefully, he looks back over his shoulder.

She is now leaning on the kitchen door, one foot up, rocking herself minutely as if to some unheard music. With dread, he sees the half-empty bottle (rum?) in her hand.

Trying to get control of the situation, he manages, “What crime? Are you drunk?”

She puts her foot down and stands up a bit unsteadily, points at him with one finger, “Yes! I AM drunk but not THAT drunk. Just drunk enough t’ come here an’ report a crime... a shame an’ a crime!” She advances a few steps on him.

He doesn’t like the look in her eye. He hasn’t seen that look in many years but all the awful memories well up... alcohol + determined woman + naïve young plod = total disaster... for him.

Swallowing nervously, he backs up a step, “What shame? What crime?”

She gestures broadly with both hands, “US! You here… me there… when we could be here… or there... but together… you know? It’s gotta stop. It’s not right. So here I am!” She plunks the bottle down onto the tiny kitchen counter and faces him with both hands on her hips, “So what are we gonna do about it, hmmm?”

Before he can take another step, she rushes him, slips one hand around his waist and dips the other between his legs. He stiffens convulsively, jerks himself out of her grasp and positively leaps the stairs, buttons pinging everywhere as she grabs at his pajama shirt in reflex.

She sways slightly, catching her balance. His sudden move has startled her. He isn’t supposed to resist! He is supposed to welcome her, admonish her for waiting so long to act on their long-simmering sexual tensions, take her to bed, delight her.

Looking up at him now, limned in pale lamp light, she sees something unexpected. His eyes are wide and spooked. His lips are parted. He is panting. His body is rigid but not with lust. Not even desire. Fear. What the hell? He looks for all the world like a virgin about to be sacrificed on an altar.

She takes a step up. He backs off. She takes another step up. He backs off farther. By the time she is at the top of the stairs, he has put the coffee table between them and is holding his torn shirt closed. _Pity, nice view._

She crosses her arms and studies him. The alcohol is still simmering in her veins and she is trying to think. Why does he look so afraid? Why isn’t he saying anything? What’s the deal? “What’s wrong, Richard? Why are you standin’ way over there? I want you over here with me!”

He is shaking his head, trying to clear his shocked senses. Camille, groping him! He clears his throat, tries to find his D. I. voice but fails. The voice that comes is low and timid, “No. Not going to happen. You’re drunk and I’m…” he gestures to himself, tousled and disheveled.

She grins, “Yes, you are!” and starts around the table. He counters. They are at a stand-off.

He tries again, “Look, you don’t know what you’re doing. Why don’t you just go home and sleep it off? We’ll never mention it again and things will go back to normal, OK?”

She stamps her foot, “No! I don’ want things to go back to normal! It ISN’T normal!! You, here, alone, and sooo lovely. An’ me, there, alone, and sooo hungry! Somethin’ had to give and it was ME! So… a bit of rum, a bit of a walk, and now it’s YOUR turn to give. Tonight. Right now.”

As she talks, she circles the table, watching for her chance. The least distraction and she will have him.

END – Part 1


	14. Exorcism - part 2

Part 2 of 4

She watches him slow, stop. He is looking at her as if he doesn’t know her. _What’s going through his head? Did he hear anything I just said? Doesn’t he understand my need?_

His voice is so low she almost doesn’t hear him, “Camille, you can’t be serious? Me? Not ME, surely? I’m useless with women… always have been. You’d be much better off with almost anyone else. Please go home and sleep it off.”

She begins circling the other way, “No, I wan’ to sleep it off with YOU… just you. Wha’s wrong? You’re actin’ like you’ve never…” Now it is her turn to stop and consider... _could THAT be it? No, impossible! And yet…_ She studies him anew, another emotion rising up in her.

He sees it... _Ah, Christ! Say something! Do something! Don’t let her guess the truth..._ but she speaks before he can think of any distraction or defense.

“Richard, have you never been with a woman before?”

He slumps minutely, drops his gaze, knowing her disdain will follow. Next will be the laughter, the incredulous mocking remarks, the total humiliation of being found out before he even has a chance to try. Faint voices sound in his head, getting louder, voices from the past… _loser... hopeless… useless…_

She sees his guard dropping. She could take him now but something holds her back. _This isn’t the simple equation I thought it was. Something else is going on here. He’s listening to something… something from inside._ His whole body has tensed up, almost like he is under attack. _Maybe he IS under attack, just not from ME._ Gently, she asks, “Richard? What are you thinking?”

He snaps out of it, meets her gaze. His look is desperate, despairing, challenging, “Go ahead! Tell me I’m less than a man… hopeless, useless, rubbish! It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before! Go ahead! Tell me!” He is winding himself up into a storm of self-accusation and guilt. Mocking laughter echoes in his head… high-pitched… feminine… low rumbles… masculine...

_Oh, Camille,_ he agonizes, _why couldn’t you have left well enough alone? I was almost able to live with it after all this time… but now… now it’s boiling up out of my control! The voices! The hateful voices that I’ve fled all my life… here in the one place I thought I was safe! NO-where is safe! There’s nowhere I can GO and nothing I can DO to escape!_ He balls his hands into fists and pushes them hard over his eyes… takes deep breathes… bites his lip… to quiet the voices… the hateful voices…

He is so intent on his inner struggle that when she steps up onto the coffee table… then down beside him… he doesn’t even notice. She tries to take his hands. He jerks them out of her grasp. He is backing up. She is trying to stay with him. She is trying to calm him, sooth him. He is resisting every effort on her part. The voices are just too loud… _Hey,_ they sneer, _HERE’S a woman! AND she’s drunk! Maybe THAT will help! She might not notice how useless you are! You can tell her how wonderful you were in the morning and she won’t remember! Won’t remember… won’t know…_ The laughter gains power.

Finally, they crash into the bed and she lands on top of him, still trying to capture his hands. The shock of thumping onto the mattress and feeling her slight weight slam down onto him wakes him up. He freezes with the utter stripping of mental gears as his body registers the sensation of WOMAN. On top.

To her amazement Camille has Richard pinned to the bed… right where she wanted him. Before. Not now. This is way beyond anything she’s imagined. _What is happening here? He acts like… like he is haunted! Possessed! What is it? Nothing is going to happen here tonight until I understand EXACTLY what’s going on! Something is in the way and I’m tired of waiting! OK, Camille, time to FIGHT!_ She catches his face with both hands, holds him as tight as she can, “Richard, TALK to me!! What IS it?”

He is shaking his head, eyes wide and shining, “It’s no good, Camille. I’m rubbish. I can’t please a woman. I never have. I’m useless. I’m no good.” He begins to cry quietly, hot tears of shame and remorse and loss. Of all the women he has pined for, she was his best hope, his last shot, and now it’s all ruined. _Oh, Camille, why couldn’t you leave well enough alone? Why did you have to discover my deepest most shameful secret?_ The tears burn like coals.

As his hands swim up to hold her in a desperate unthinking search for comfort, as his hot cheek presses against her shoulder, Camille feels such rage flare up that she is surprised she doesn’t burst into spontaneous combustion! She rears up, catches him by both PJ lapels and shouts into his startled face, “Who IS this? Who’s inside there telling me all these LIES?!! Tell me your NAME!!” She is so furious that she’s thrown herself up onto her knees, straddling him. She has pulled him up with her, shaking him like a mad dog, “TELL me! Who IS this? Face me, you BITCH!” He is trying to wrest free but she won’t let go, “Give her UP, Richard! Who is this? What’s her name?”

Finally, just to stop the teeth-rattling savagery of her assault, he gasps, “Sasha! It’s Sasha! From uni!”

Camille stills, lets him drop back onto the bed but keeps a death-grip on his shirt, “Well, HELL-O, Sasha! Tell me… what do you have to say about this fine man here? I’m listening!” she hisses in deadly earnest.

Weakly, Richard bats at her hands, tries to speak, “Really, Camille, stop…”

She gives him another shake, “Not YOU, Richard... I’m talking to Sasha. OK, Sasha, speak up! What did you SAY to him? What did you DO to him?”

Richard lay quietly, wondering just how mad this French woman really is... but when he parts his lips to speak reason something else slips out… much to his shock and surprise! A low mean voice mutters, “He’s rubbish. He’s weak. He’s a child… not a man. No woman in her right mind would want him.”

Camille looms down, looking daggers into wide green horrified eyes, “Is that right? Shows what YOU know! He’s NOT rubbish! He’s the BEST! He’s wonderful! He’s strong! He’s faced down stone cold killers! He survived Croydon! He survived banishment. He survived US. What have YOU done? Did a young boy offer you his heart, hmmm? All those years ago? Did you break that heart? Did you try to break HIM? Did you enjoy hurting him? That makes you a heartless bitch! Heartless… and BLIND! Heartless and blind and undeserving… so undeserving…”

Here she pauses, searches his eyes, whispers, “Are you listening, Richard? Do you hear me?”

He nods, afraid to say anything.

END – part 2


	15. Exorcism - part 3 of 4

Part 3 of 4

She straightens back up, takes a calming breath, “Listen, you bitch, he IS a man, now. Have you SEEN any of this lately? Look at these shoulders, this chest, these hips.” She flips his shirt open, runs one hand down his torso, caressing, humming low, “Oh, yes, very masculine, very much a man. So handsome. You were too stupid and callow to see it but I see it. I see it every day and it’s driving me crazy. I want him. I want him ALL the time. What do you say to that?”

There is a long pause. Both of them wait to see what happens next. When it comes, the voice is not quite so sure, “He’s afraid. Quiet. Too shy.”

She smiles in triumph, “Is THAT the best you got? He’s afraid because you made him that way! You had treasure and didn’t recognize it, thankfully! He’s quiet because he has a huge inner landscape too big for you to imagine with your peanut brain and shallow vanities. And he’s shy,” she leans forward to kiss his lips very softly, “because it drives me insane and that’s all the reason he needs.”

She turns her ear to those lips, “Anything else? Any other big fat lies you’d like to unload before I kill you in cold blood and commit your wretched soul to the sea?”

A much longer pause then, very faint, almost puzzled, “He cannot please a woman.”

Now she begins to glow, “Oh, I know THAT’S not true and in about 2 minutes he’s going to know it too! You are SO busted! Right, you are out of there!” So saying, she places both hands on his temples and makes a gentle scooping motion up into the air between them, “There, you see, Richard? She’s out.” She knots her hands into fists and murders the air cupped in their grasp, “That’s you settled, you nasty piece of work! Come sniffing around him again and I will dig you out with a spoon and set fire to you!”

She glances down at his pale dazed face, “Do you believe me?”

He nods, anything to save him from this vision of Gallic retribution blazing above him!

“There! She’s gone! I’ve killed her and I’m not sorry!” She pats him, smooths out his rumpled shirt, runs her fingers through his disarrayed hair, brushes the last of his tears from his face, “You don’t have any plans for a class reunion, do you?”

She gives him a laser-stare, silent and deadly.

He shakes his head very carefully. No. He does NOT! Ever!!

She flings her hands wide and intones, “Into the sea with you where I hope you drift for eternity knowing that you threw away the best thing you ever had!” She dusts her hands, looking very satisfied, “The best thing that is now mine. Mine and mine alone!”

He just has to smile the tiniest bit. _Mad… utterly mad… AND French… and SO beautiful!_

She sees this and smiles back. Stooping down once more, she runs a fingertip from his lips over his chin and down to draw tiny circles in the hollow of his throat.

Almost afraid to breathe, he opens his mouth and this time it is his own voice that whispers, “What just happened? What did you just do? Am I mad or still asleep or…?”

She kisses him most tenderly, “There, there, chéri. I think we just got rid of a major demon from your past. I know it hurt but you tore off the scab and now it can heal with my help, with lots and lots and LOTS of my help.”

His eyes slip closed as he registers once more the incredible sensation of WOMAN. On top. His mind is quiet. The storm is gone. The voices stilled. How had it happened? There he’d been innocently asleep (well, not so innocently now that he recalls) then crashed awake then groped then avoiding rapine then being shaken senseless by a mad woman while a voice… _That voice! Where had it COME from? From me? Where else? From me! Have I been carrying that poison all this time? No wonder…_

The huge inner landscape of his mind is disturbed by the sensation of firm hands on his body.

He opens his eyes to see Camille smiling as she runs her hands up and down his chest. She is fondling him in the most blatantly wonderful manner! And… and… his private shame and embarrassment is rising to meet her without either shame OR embarrassment! That’s never happened before! It feels glorious, free, and uninhibited. _Oh, Camille! Thank god you didn’t leave well enough alone!!_

He tentatively lifts his hips to brush against her. She doesn’t scream and leap off in horror. In fact, he gulps as she lowers herself and gently rocks into him. He clutches her thighs in surprised delight, tries to hold her there but she shakes her head, “Non, my spoils of war, you have something to say to me first.”

Gasping (so little air suddenly!), he manages, “I do?”

She lowers herself to lie beside him, pulls his arm around her waist, takes his other hand in hers, intertwining their fingers tightly, kisses his flushed face, “Yes. I heard some AWFUL lies tonight. I just want to make sure you heard the truths. Now, who’s rubbish?”

His lips part and he almost says it but he catches himself and thinks, _Can she be right? Was I wrong all these many years? Was I EVER rubbish?_ He takes a small breath and a big chance, “Sasha. Sasha was rubbish.”

Camille nods, kisses his mouth, “That’s right. And what are you?”

He blushes, “Please, Camille, don’t make me say it.”

“Why not? It’s true. Say it. C’mon, you know I can make you say it.” Her hand pinches intimately.

He jerks and groans, “Wonderful! I’m wonderful. Oh, god, you are totally bonkers.”

She kisses his throat, “You ARE wonderful and you taste so good!” Her tongue is leaving lazy streaks of fire from jaw to collarbone, “And are you a child?”

His voice is deepening as her mouth dips lower and he realizes that every right answer will be rewarded, “No, I’m a man. Have been for many years now, just didn’t realize it.”

END – part 3

 


	16. Exorcism - part 4 of 4

Part 4 of 4

Her tongue is stroking him, sharing the work with gentle fingers, “I realized it. Aren’t you lucky? And what do men do?”

His tiny groans of pleasure match her satisfied hums as she nuzzles into his chest hair. The tingling is driving him insane! “Men make love to women,” he says in a desperate moment of inspiration and hope.

“That’s right!” she whispers against his skin. It feels so good, so unearthly, that he almost misses her next question, “And… are you good?” She is following the arrow of hair lower, leaving his chest but her fingers stay, teasing, stroking, so hot.

“Oh, god, I hope so!”

The maelstrom of sensations is overwhelming. He doesn’t know how to handle it so he lets it crash over him like a hurricane on the beach. He isn’t aware of the sounds he is making but she hears them, hears them and is proud. _I am wringing these sounds out of him_ , she exalts, _sounds I’m sure he’s never made before but he will repeat them often from now on. Solemn vow._

Trembling, gasping, he endures it as long as he can. She is laughing when he pulls her to his chest in self defense. He captures her hands and folds them in his. _God! That had been close!_ Panting, he tries to reason with her, “Camille! Stop!! Give me a chance. You’re not playing fair! That was too…” He stops. He didn’t know what it was.

She rains kisses down onto his face, “Sorry! Sorry! You were too much to resist! You aren’t just wonderful. You are lovely, glorious, mon cheval! I have another question now!”

Almost fearfully, he asks, “What is it?”

“Are you weak, quiet, afraid? Wait! I’ll answer for you because I’ve seen the proof myself. Non!! You are strong, loud, and brave enough to interrupt a determined French woman. Engarde, English man, you are mine!” She leans down, closer and closer, making deep eye contact, “WILL you be mine?”

He can only nod and whisper, “Yes. Please. Forever and ever, amen.”

She begins to make love to him, slow and tender, then she stops, rears up once more, looking suspicious, “Is there anyone ELSE in your head that needs a good kicking?”

His shocked silence is broken by a shout of laughter, “You ARE mad! Truly deeply mad!” but she won’t let up her interrogation until he has surrendered the name of every girl and/or woman who has ever slighted him. It isn’t a very long list, after all, much to his surprise. _Funny how things get magnified out of all proportion_ , he thinks.

The only hitch is when Lily’s name pops out.

Camille scowls fiercely, “THAT woman! How lucky you were to escape HER clutches. I can’t bear the thought of you only a heartbeat away from a bullet to the brain! Arrgh!” She is quiet for a moment.

He feels somewhat uneasy. _Surely not…?_

“What about Megan?”

He sighs, _Yep, trust good ol’ Camille to dredge THAT up!_ He gulps guiltily, “Oh, well, Megan! What can I say? It was a knee-jerk reaction. I had absolutely no control over it.”

She dips a hand again. This time it is most welcome although it makes him hiss. “Oh, knee-jerk, I see!” she smirks.

“What do you think you’re doing?” It doesn’t come out sounding indignant at all.

“Just checking. Hard to tell, is it me or her causing this?”

He puts a hand over hers, helping, just being a gentlemen after all, “Oh, that’s all you, trust me.”

She smiles into his kiss, “Non, I believe that is all you.”

She is playing him like a musical instrument. He sighs blissfully, “Are we done talking? I know I am.”

“Oui, we can talk later. Time now for something a bit quieter.” Looking down at his shining face, she considers as she helps him out of his torn shirt, “Or maybe a bit louder. That’s for us to discover, yes?”

Tossing his shirt off into the dark, he pulls her down into a fierce embrace and couldn’t agree more.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Hallowe’en. I’m off to the Caribbean and sure to find inspiration on the beach.**


	17. It NEVER Happens!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many times do I have to say it? When will it ever be true?

**It NEVER Happens!!**

Part 1 of 10 (or is it 11?)

“How often do I have to say it?” she growls. “It is never, ever, never in a million years going to happen!”

And yet, it does happen. He is quiet all afternoon then goes home early to pack. By 6pm he is on the plane and out of their lives. She stands on his beach, watching the plane soar away, getting smaller, smaller, smallest, gone. Tears course down her cheeks unnoticed and unchecked. _Well, he did it. He left. Left without a backwards glance or a howdy-doo. Gone like last year’s sea-wrack._

She dashes the dampness off her face and straightens her shoulders. _Fine! Let him be that way! We will carry on without him and we’ll enjoy doing it!! I will hold down the office and Dwayne can patrol the town and Fidel can patrol the island and we’ll be JUST FINE!_

She smiles a pale rictus, _I’m the acting D.I. now. This is my chance! My chance to prove myself to the Commissioner and to Maman and to everyone… even to… him… oh, god! HIM!_ She reaches up to the sky and pleads, “Richard, come back! Please come back!” But the sky is silent and only the waves answer her forlorn call.

She drops her arms and turns back to the little beach shack. How dingy and crass it looks now without him inside to give it the magical glow that it shed for the past 2 years. She marches up the steps and throws open the veranda door… the one he’d charged out of just last year while chasing a chicken. Her laugh is hollow as she recalls him in those ridiculous pajamas! Yes, those pajamas that she would have given anything to wear the tops of! Now… now it didn’t matter.

She paces into the house, stalking from place to place. Here had been the chair he’d fallen asleep in on his first birthday on the island. She remembers kissing him so chastely. Merde, if only she’d known then what she knows now! And over here, the desk they had worked at so often, acting totally professional and strenuously ignoring each other. And here, right here, the bed that…

She turns away with another cry. Best not to think about that. Nothing means anything anymore if he isn’t centre stage taking up all the oxygen and sunshine. Without him, this is just a shack… a husk… an empty shell. “Rather like me,” she quavers then draws a deep breath and stamps a foot in sudden fury.

“I’m Camille Bordey, Detective Sergeant, former undercover agent of the Directorate du France. I’m a damn fine officer and I can go anywhere and do anything I like! And right now…” she slumps “… I’d like to go home and sleep for a week.”

She quickly mashes up a slice of mango and calls to Harry. As she watches him dart out to investigate, she mutters, “You might have to come home with me, Harry, unless you want to go back to living a bachelor’s life here in the rafters.”

Harry licks his tiny chops with a surprisingly pink tongue and contemplates her for a long moment before bobbing his head once and scuttling away. Camille calls after him, “That’s OK! Rejection seems to be my middle name these days! Fine, go ahead and live all alone and friendless. It’s not like I care or anything! It’s not like I tried to save you from yourself… tried to teach you that Life is worth living… tried to… tried to… to love…” Here she runs down once more. She scrubs her face briskly and claps her hands, “Right! I’m done here. No reason to stay a minute longer. See you in the next life, Harry.”

She turns her back resolutely and marches out, slamming the door behind her and climbing into the Defender for the very last time beneath these trees. She doesn’t look in the mirror. As she turns onto the road, she shrugs. It’s just another nameless dusty lane now. Going nowhere. Leading to nothing. No reason to think about it anymore.

She drives back to the station and finishes her day with routine paperwork and forms and reports and all the dreadful minutiae of being the D.I. of the Honoré Police Force. By the time she is ready to go home, she feels almost normal… until her door closes behind her and she hears the empty echoes of a life unfulfilled. A life interrupted. A life without him. One plate on the table. One pillow on the bed. One toothbrush in the cup.

It is one of the longest nights of her life… and not for any good reason that she desperately searches for.

And so it goes. Day after day. Night after night. Until she is ready to shrivel up and die. Then Maman introduces her to a nice young doctor and the blind dates start up again. She goes through the motions but what’s the point? None of them are him but they are a distraction and she throws herself into the dating scene with vigor. Maybe too much vigor. None of the men ever ask for a second date.

One man, a lawyer, tries to avoid her on the street and so she stalks him down and corners him in a shop. “Why did you cross the street back there?” she rasps.

His eyes dart from side to side before he stops trying to back up through the wall behind him, “Um, well, I don’t… I mean I haven’t… I… Well, I’ve been busy.”

His stuttered response stabs her right through the heart. _The eyes_ , she thinks, _the eyes are all wrong_. “Mmm-hmm, too busy to call? Too busy to lunch at La Kaz like you used to? Too busy to even nod at me in the street?”

He looks down in cornered anger, “Yes! Too busy. Besides, you aren’t interested in me. You made that very plain on our date. Why are you wasting time on me when you are so obviously…”

Her brows lower ominously, “When I’m so obviously… what?!”

He grimaces like there’s a bad taste in his mouth, “I shouldn’t say… but I will. You are obviously carrying a torch for someone else and I’m not him, am I?”

Her mouth is open to deliver a scathing retort but the words just don’t come. She stills and listens to his breathing. _Hah, even his breathing is wrong!_ Now her eyes close in pain as she recalls the breathing that she liked to listen to. Once, during the storm, listening to him as he slept beside her.

She opens her eyes and sees this perfectly nice man that she is torturing for no good reason. She nods suddenly, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take out my anger on you.” She steps aside and gestures, “You may go now. I won’t bother you again.”

He gives her a cautious look and scarpers. She snorts a bitter laugh. _Scarper! Where did I learn THAT word, I wonder? God, can’t I forget him for even a single moment?_ In her secret heart, she already knows the answer.

Months later

The days are better. The work gets done, the cases get closed, and the station runs smoothly. The newest officer seems to be settling in well. Fidel has taken the youngster under his wing like… like… like the former D.I. did with Fidel. The youngster is learning proper police procedure as he should. _Like HE would have taught him. Like HE always insisted in treating the younger generation._

She throws her head back in loss at her (his) desk and groans. _What is he doing right now,_ she wonders? _Who is he spending time with? What is he eating and how does he fill his nights?_ And, worst of all, comes the thought that is murdering her sleep, _Has he found someone at last?_ She slams her fists onto the desktop and makes Dwayne jump where he sits at his desk.

Dwayne watches her cautiously out of the corner of his eye. Oh, he knows perfectly well what is bothering her. She isn’t aware but she mutters to herself sometimes and there is only one topic of conversation inside her head! The Chief. Always the Chief. He sighs sadly. Well, the man made his choice and went back to England when the promotion and offer of Croydon was handed to him on a plate. What self-respecting officer with half an ounce of ambition wouldn’t jump at that chance? _Well, not me,_ he thinks. _I’m perfectly happy where I am… or I used to be. It sure isn’t much fun here now. Maybe I ought to think over my options. Perhaps I’d be happier in a quieter station?_

Now there are two pensive people wondering if they are doing the right thing with their lives.

When Fidel comes in for his shift and casually mentions that there’s a posting for a Sergeant on St. Lucia, it is like a death knell. The three of them sit stiffly in their chairs and look at one another. They are suddenly aghast… totally aghast. Their team is falling apart and they don’t know how to save it!

That night, as she works on her routine bottle of wine, Camille storms about her little apartment and rants silently to herself. _My world! My world is crumbling! If Fidel leaves, who will be my Sergeant? If Dwayne leaves, who will be my eyes and ears on the island? The new guy just isn’t up to the task! Some stranger will be sent in and I’ll look like a failure!_ She comes to a halt in her living room and grits out, “Oh, Richard! Why did you leave us? Were we really so bad that you had to run away? Weren’t we enough for you? Couldn’t you have tried just a little harder?”

By the time the bottle is empty she has come up with a plan. _Rather than be the sole surviving member of Team P… I mean Team Honoré… I will jump ship! I’ll go back to undercover work. I’ll disappear into the underworld and catch crooks every day and wipe the slime off my shoes every night. I did it before and I can do it again. Maybe… if I’m VERY lucky… I’ll find another partner that…_ but her thought stops there. As she quietly cries herself to sleep again, she is convinced it is the only way to save her sanity.

Next day

When she comes into the office, Fidel turns to her from the Public Inquiry Desk and calls out to her, “Detective? There’s a woman here asking after… after D.I. Poole. Could you take this?”

Camille nods numbly and stilts to the Desk, “How may I help you, ma’am?” she says tonelessly.

The middle-aged blonde smiles radiantly and says, “Can you please tell Richard that his uni friends are here for a reunion and we’re dying to meet up with him? Tell him Angela Birkett is here.”

END – part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this story with only 10 chapters but another bit intruded later (a familiar problem with me). See what you think. Maybe I can leave it at 10 chapters? S/P


	18. It NEVER Happens!!

**Part 2 of 10 (or is it 11?)**

“Richard? Uni?” she parrots mindlessly, caught off guard and momentarily defenseless.

Angela must have seen something on Camille’s face because she takes a step back as if a punch is coming, “Why, yes. We were all such good friends at school and when I discovered he’d been stationed here, well, I just thought it would be good fun to surprise him, you know?”

“Surprise? Richard?” All Camille can think is how much he hates surprises. Then another thought floods into her head, _If they were such good friends, how come she doesn’t know he’s gone back to England?_ Something just doesn’t jibe here and her copper’s instincts kick in, “Um, when did you make your travel plans, if I may ask?”

“Oh, quite some time ago. It’s very difficult to coordinate people, you know,” Angela laughs and glances about, looking for someone who isn’t there.

_Don’t bother,_ Camille thinks, _I can’t find him no matter how hard I look. He’s gone. He’s history._ “He’s not here,” she says aloud. “I’m very sorry to inform you that D. I. Poole returned to England about eight months ago in order to accept a major promotion and to take over his old station at Croydon. He’s a DCI now and way above us lowly mortals.”

Angela’s eyes are focused on Camille now, her lip almost quivering, “Not here? He’s not here?”

Camille takes a deep breath and gruffs, “No. Sorry. Guess you came all this way for nothing.” _Rather like me_ , she thinks but does not say. She is just turning away, nodding to Fidel to aid the woman in whatever manner she requires when she hears a little sob and swings back.

Angela is crumpling. Camille darts around the counter and catches the woman before she folds up into a heap. She maneuvers the woman into a chair and sits down beside her, waving Fidel away. This is obviously woman’s work and no place for men! As Fidel retreats to the other end of the station and confers with Dwayne, Camille chaffs the woman’s cold hand and murmurs, “I’m sorry if I was a bit curt. His leaving upset us all. We’re still coming to terms with it ourselves.”

Angela smiles bravely but Camille can tell she doesn’t mean it, “Oh, I can just imagine. When he left us, it hurt so much! Nothing felt right for years.”

Camille’s radar pings loudly and she just can’t resist, “How did he leave you? And why?”

“Oh,” Angela scoffs, “It was so stupid. We were a six-some; me, him, Roger, Helen, Sasha, and James. Everyone was so much fun except for Richard. He was so serious and solemn all the time. We tried hard to loosen him up, you know? He only ever got drunk once with us and he injured himself that night somehow. He was stiff and sore for weeks afterwards. I was so worried about him.” The woman hushes and seems to be thinking sad thoughts.

Camille prods her gently, “Three men… and three women. Did you pair up?” Her voice sounds almost normal but Angela gives her a puzzled look anyway.

“Well, Sasha flirted outrageously with Richard but I knew she didn’t mean it.”

Very quietly, Camille intuits as her training has taught her, “Did Richard know she didn’t mean it?”

Angela looks down and shakes her head, “No. He was totally smitten with her. She would never have completed her dissertation if not for him. She was fluent in French but didn’t have the drive to do the work. He practically wrote it for her.” Angela sits up and says angrily, “I always thought she strung him along just so he’d finish it for her. Soon as she had her degree in hand, she ran off with James to the south of France and that was that. Richard was heart-broken.”

Camille lowers her eyes. She can just see it… see him, “And the rest of you? What did you do?”

“Well, we tried to cheer him up as best we could, of course. I… I even told him… that I cared for him. He was very nice about it but it was no good. He’s always been a gentleman, you know.”

“I know,” Camille murmurs in sympathy.

Angela looks up sadly, “But he couldn’t get over her betrayal. We tried to keep in touch but he drifted away and we just couldn’t keep hold of him. Once he entered Law Enforcement, we lost touch. Helen left to travel and died in an auto accident. Roger took over his family business and I took up Law. At one time, I’d hoped that our futures might coincide, Richard’s and mine, that maybe we could work together. We did bump into each other every so often in Court but he was so strange. He was closed off and nothing I did or said made the slightest impression.” She smiles faintly, “But I never really gave up hoping. So, once Sasha and James came back to England to take over his family business, well, I thought maybe it was time to unite the old team.”

_The old team_ , Camille thinks. _His FIRST team._ “How did you track him down?”

“My parents knew his parents’ neighbours’ sons’ daughter-in-law’s mother. I called at Croydon about a year ago and they told me where he was. Odd, that. They seemed almost gleeful. I don’t think he had many friends there.”

Camille can’t help but ask, “Did you happen to meet a Doug Anderson there?”

Angela snorts, “Oh, that horrid man! How do you know about him? Did Richard tell you?”

“No. We found out by pure bad luck. Anderson turned up here and Richard got him for murder and conspiracy to commit murder. That was a fine day! That’s how he got his promotion. Anderson’s arrest led to major house-cleaning, internal investigations, and more arrests. The higher-ups felt that Richard was the only trust-worthy person they could depend upon to whip the station back into shape. He hopped the next plane and that was that.”

“How wonderful! I bet Richard was over the moon to nail Anderson! Horrid man!”

Camille’s voice dwindles, “Not so’s you’d notice. He wasn’t happy here. He wanted to go home.”

Angela slumps now and gives a defeated sigh, “And he did, didn’t he? He’s been home for eight months and never even thought to call me. Well, I guess that tells me everything I need to know. Oh, it hurts when your heart is breaking, even after 20 years. Does it ever stop, I wonder?”

Camille closes her eyes, _Merde, I hope so! Please, don’t let me suffer for 20 years like this poor woman!_

Angela’s voice makes Camille open her eyes in surprise, “You love him, don’t you? I hear it in your voice, in what you say and what you don’t say. I see it in your eyes. If it’s one thing I’m very familiar with… it’s the lost cause of ‘loving Richard’. Well, good luck to you. I hope you have better luck than I did.”

Camille falters a weak smile, “Haven’t you been listening? He left us. Eight months ago. Total silence. The man has vanished into thin air and we shall see him no more.” Camille spreads her hands like she is doing a magic trick. “In the meantime, we are trying to find our feet and carry on the best we can.”

Angela says small, “It’s not easy, is it?”

“No,” Camille sighs “It’s not. But what are the alternatives? Curl up and die? Tried that. Drink myself into oblivion every night? Tried that too. Date other men? That didn’t go so well.” She sits up sharply and claps her hands onto her knees, “No! We just have to soldier on without the love of our life. There’s lots of choices out there. We just have to find them.”

Angela laughs, “You’re right! And one of the choices you have right now is whether or not to join us for supper tonight. I made reservations at a lovely little spot called La Kaz here in town with every intention of dragging Richard to it with grappling hooks if I had to.”

“Not necessary,” Camille smiles. “He took tea there almost every day. My mother owns it.”

“Does she?! That’s marvelous. Do you think she’ll regale us with tales of Richard?”

Standing, Camille nods vigorously, “Oh, trust me! If it’s one thing my mother LOVES to go on about, it’s Richard Poole and his failings. She can talk all night and never repeat herself once! What time?”

“7 pm. And isn’t this nice? I haven’t a lick of French and neither does Roger but you’ll be able to talk to Sasha with ease. She was always so damn proud of her fluency and always teased me about being too thick to pick up a foreign language. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when you burst out in French and surprise her. Order a big plate of seafood and she will be disgusted on top of everything else. She hates seafood, always has and always will.”

“Sounds like fun. OK, I’ll meet you at 7 and I’ll brush up on my proper French. We speak a slightly different patois here on the island.”

“Great! So nice to meet you although I’m sorry it’s under such sad circumstances. Maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t here. We would probably end up fighting over him, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes,” Camille murmurs “We probably would. See you at 7.”

Angela nods and smiles and turns away, casting a brief shadow on the floor then gone.

Camille stands at the now empty Public Inquiry counter, her mind awhirl with memories.

“That had to be the saddest little heart-to-heart I’ve ever heard,” says Dwayne right behind her.

Camille turns on him with venom, “Listen not at keyholes lest ye be vexed! He taught me that too!”

Dwayne rears back, eyes wide, “Ay, ay, ay! Steady, Detective. I miss him too, you know.”

She deflates, “I know, Dwayne, I know. Sorry. I didn’t sleep so well last night… or any night.”

Dwayne watches her drag herself away and shakes his head. _Oh, Chief, did you know what your departure would do to us? Did you? Would it have mattered? I’d like to think it might… if only you’d known…_ He shakes his head one last time and goes back to his desk.

END – part 2


	19. It NEVER Happens!!

Part 3 of ?

It’s 7:11 pm and the party is in full swing. Introductions have been made and the stories are already flowing. Camille is trying very hard to convince the group that Richard had actually done and said what he had done and said. She sees Dwayne coming in and calls out to him, “Dwayne! Come here and back me up on this! They don’t believe a word of what I’m telling them.”

Dwayne ambles over good-naturedly and orders a beer. Within moments he is laughing uproariously, “Oh, sure! The Chief was magic! He could look at storm debris on the ground or walk through a room and look at the furniture – and he’d know! He’d know right away that a crime had been committed and then he’d turn on that big brain of his and figure it out! Oh, he was a wonder, aw right.” He twists the cap off his beer with relish and lifts it to his lips.

“Should you be drinking while on duty?” Roger asks him.

Dwayne breaks off his first swallow of the day with a snort, “Oh, I’m almost always in uniform, on duty or off. You’d be surprised how often I get a date this way.” He winks and Roger blinks.

Camille gives him a stern look and he adds, “Also, it reassures the visitors. The Chief’s suits always seemed to calm people right down, let me tell you.”

“I can imagine,” Roger mumbles. “He was always a buzz-kill.” This earns him a stern look from Camille, Dwayne, and Angela. “Well, he was! Sasha, you tell ‘em! Rich was always the kill-joy, wasn’t he?”

Sasha huffs over her second glass of wine, “Why ask me? It’s not like I knew the man at all well.”

Angela and Camille exchange a look. Angela quirks an eyebrow and nods towards Sasha. Camille takes the hint. She turns to Sasha and bursts out in a flood of French that goes on for several moments before she gets the very uncomfortable feeling that she is speaking to a blank wall. She stutters to a halt mid-sentence and the silence draws itself out.

Sasha stares at her for a frozen moment then turns to James, “That reminds me, we really should call our friends in France and arrange a visit soon. I miss everyone.” James jumps in with hurried assurances that they will visit very soon and the moment passes.

Except it doesn’t. Dwayne leans in and whispers, “What was that all about? It’s not like you to try to embarrass someone in public like that.”

Angela and Camille look to him. Camille defends herself, sotto voce, “What do you mean?”

Dwayne sits back with a quiet scoff, “Well, it’s obvious the woman doesn’t know a word of French so why would you natter on at her like that?”

Angela murmurs, “Not know French? The woman practically oozes it out her pores.” Then she turns to look at Sasha across the table as she places her dinner order, “At least, she used to.” She turns to Camille, “Can someone lose an entire language in less than a year? They only just got back to England.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Camille answers, not quite sure what to think… but something is trying to get her attention at the back of her mind. The 'little still voice’ that Richard had always talked about… it’s trying to tell her something. She calms herself and waits for the voice to speak up.

“Y’know,” Dwayne muses, “I remember another person who didn’t know French when he shoulda.” He turns to Camille, “You remember, don’t you? The spa case?”

Camille’s eyes flare wide as the little voice… HIS little voice… suddenly shouts in her head. _Vincent! Paul Vincent! The criminal who’d stolen the identity of a dead boy… a dead boy who should have grown up to be a man that should have known French!_ As she tries to process whatever all this means, she sees their suppers coming out. She sees her plate… Angela’s plate… Roger’s plate… James’ plate… and Sasha’s. Sasha’s plate… full of seafood… full of eyes…

She turns to Angela and jerks a small nod. Angela looks over, looks back and starts to ask a question when her head snaps back to stare at Sasha once more. Or, more precisely, at Sasha’s plate. When she turns back to Camille, their eyes meet and they are full of questions.

END – part 3


	20. It NEVER Happens!!

PART 4 of ?

Dwayne leaves after finishing his beer but not before giving Camille a speculative glance. As he walks home, he ponders the look on Camille’s face. He’s seen that look before… lots of times… but where? Just as he turns into his walkway, he halts in surprise. _The Chief! The Chief gets that look when he is on the hunt._ He wheels about and almost goes back to La Kaz but stops himself. _Ah, whatever it is, she’ll tell me if she needs help with whatever has caught her attention… just like he does. Did. Just like he did._

Back at La Kaz, the meal drags on, the conversation now carried mainly by Roger and James. Camille then says goodbye to three of the four friends. Angela is staying to have a late-night coffee. They watch the threesome get up and leave then Camille signals for Catherine to join them.

As Catherine settles in a vacant chair, Camille says, “Well, Maman? What do you think? Once I asked you to test her, did you get any sense that she understood French at all?”

“Mais non, Chérie, other than words that almost everyone knows. It is my considered opinion that that woman does NOT speak French.” She fusses with her coffee before fixing Camille with a sharp eye, “May I ask why you are so interested? Is it because this woman was once Richard’s true love?”

Both Angela and Camille flush but it is Camille who answers, “Of course not! That’s old history now. He isn’t the same person now as he was then. All the stories we heard tonight prove that. However…” she turns to Angela, “I’m beginning to wonder if SHE is the same person at all.”

Angela nods in agreement, “Yes, yes! It was so odd but once you got me thinking about it, I started to notice things, remember things. I am severely conflicted but my legal training tells me to follow the clues to whatever conclusion presents itself… and I don’t like the tangent of my thoughts. Not at all.”

Camille and Catherine lean forward. “What are you remembering? What did you notice?”

“Well, you saw for yourself tonight, didn’t you? She can’t speak French. She gorged on seafood. Now, I suppose someone can lose fluency in a language… but in less than a year? And personal tastes can change and perhaps someone can learn to eat things with eyes but…”

“Not everyone…” Camille murmurs, thinking about Richard once more despite herself.

“But!” Angela now says, “She doesn’t just hate seafood… she’s allergic! Yes! It’s been 20 years since she said it but now I remember. It was our last outing together as a group. She was already fawning all over James and Richard was shattered but we tried to carry on and enjoy the evening. Richard had ordered the fish and she spent the entire meal going on and on about ‘things with eyes’ such that he had to send it back.”

Camille smiles and mutters, “I wondered where he got it from…”

Angela pauses then resumes, “That’s when she told us that not only was seafood disgusting but that she’d just found out she was allergic! Deathly allergic.”

“She wasn’t wearing a Medical Emergency bracelet, was she?” Camille asks. Both Angela and Catherine shake their heads.

“Seafood allergy is almost impossible to grow out of,” Catherine offers. “If it’s one thing I know very well, it’s food allergies. I keep a stock of epinephrine in the bar fridge. You’d be surprised how often I have to use it. Many people don’t know they’re allergic until their first trip to the tropics.”

Camille feels a familiar thrill rising. She faces Angela, “What else do you remember? Think back.”

“Well, there’s her sister’s funeral. That was odd. Sasha wore a heavy veil and gloves and hardly spoke. Even her parents were mystified but no one dared to say anything. It was all just too sad.”

“Tell us about the accident,” Catherine demands, earning a startled glance from her daughter. For just a moment there, she’d sounded just like…

“You know, I do remember something else from the funeral. I was going to the coat room when I heard a furious row coming from a side hall. I wouldn’t have stopped except I heard a man’s voice say ‘Helen’… that was the dead sister’s name, if you recall. I only heard a bit but it was James’ voice and he sounded like he was drunk. He said something like ‘it’s all your fault’ then I was out of earshot.”

Angela looks down at her hands and seems reluctant to continue.

Camille puts a hand atop hers and coaxes, “I understand this is painful for you but anything else you can give me will help.”

“Well, it’s pretty awful and it must be my lawyer’s mind twisting the facts into something sordid but…” Camille squeezes her hand. “But Sasha had just come into the family fortune when Helen had her accident. Sasha got it all and Helen got nothing. Helen was furious. She called me and demanded I act for her in getting back her share of the inheritance. She said Sasha had duped their father about what a bad person she was. I wasn’t ready to take on such a sensitive case and I wasn’t at arms-length anyway so I had to turn her down. But I always wondered if that’s why… you know… the accident…”

“You think Helen killed herself over money?” Camille bursts out in surprise.

“Well, 12 million is quite a lot of money to be denied, isn’t it?”

“12 MILLION? POUNDS?” is the twin cry of mother and daughter.

END – part 4


	21. It NEVER Happens!!

Part 5 of ?

The three women stare at each other.

“How did the accident happen?” Camille’s cop-sense speaks up.

“She lost control of the car near La Ciotat…”

Catherine jerks upright, “La Ciotat? That’s in the south of France. If she was so angry with her sister, why would she go to see her?”

“How do you know she went to see her?” Camille asks.

Catherine gives a very Gallic shrug, “It’s what I did.”

This earns her a very stunned look from Camille. _Maman NEVER mentions her past. When this is all over_ , Camille thinks, _Maman and I will have a very long conversation that is WAY overdue._ A small nod from Catherine confirms this suspicion. Camille smiles briefly, _I don’t think I’m the only detective at this table._ She turns back to Angela, “Anything else?”

“Well, lots, really. For instance, I know Sasha has had ‘work’ done at exclusive spas all over Europe. And not just on her face, no. That’s right! There was a dressing on the back of her left hand after her first session. I wondered about that. Who gets plastic surgery on their hand?”

“Was she burnt or did she have a tattoo or…?” Camille ventures.

“No, it was Helen who had the birthmark.”

It is suddenly very still. Camille’s eyes are glowing. _The pieces are falling into place. The jack-straws are lining up. All I have to do is ask the right questions and listen carefully… just like he always said!_ She leans forward, a bull in a china shop no more, and quietly says, “Tell me about this birthmark.”

“It was a dark brown spot that looked a bit like Australia. We used to tease her about it. She had a similar one on her left side. Richard told her that since the arm-bud emerges from the torso in utero then it was probably one birthmark separated by the growth of her arm.” Into the stunned hush Angela laughs sadly, “He used to say a lot of things like that. He was so unpredictable.”

Camille nods, “But always right, right?”

Angela nods, “Right. He was always right. Roger and James kept trying to catch him out. It was their favourite game. Richard was always defending himself, it seems. They eventually had to give it up because, well, he was always right and they were always wrong.” She wipes away a tear.

Camille sums up, “So Sasha breaks Richard’s heart, runs off with James to the south of France, and inherits 12 million pounds. Helen dies in a car crash in the south of France. Sasha hides her face at the funeral, has all kinds of plastic surgery, loses her French, and comes home to England. Anything else?”

In a small voice, Angela says, “No more trips to France. In fact, James sold their pied-a-terre and the little vineyard! It really was very unexpected.”

“Is that it?” Camille prompts gently.

“Apart from their eyes, you mean?”

“Eyes?”

“Yes, Sasha’s eyes are brown as I’m sure you noticed but Helen’s eyes were almost the same colour as Richard’s. Roger once teased him that if they were to marry they’d have a brood of green-eyed weeds. Richard didn’t appreciate the humour, believe me. Helen slapped Roger over that little bon mot. ”

“I can imagine,” Camille whispers. _Oh, those eyes! Those amazing green eyes. Who wouldn’t want those eyes looking back at you over…_ She shoves that thought down hard and stands up, “Thanks for all this Angela. Now, I have something to ask you and you must be very very careful in finding out what I need to know.”

“What? What do you need me to do?”

“Can you find out if Sasha wears contacts? Brown contacts?”

Angela asks in a hushed voice, “Why would Sasha…?”

Camille holds up a hand and Angela quiets. “As for me, I have a few questions of my own to chase down.” The other women give her a look but Catherine seems to already know. “Did Helen go to fight it out with Sasha in the south of France… how many people were in the car at the time of the accident… and who actually died there?”

END - part 5


	22. It NEVER Happens!!

Part 6 of ?

After Angela leaves, Camille turns to her mother and says, “Oh, Maman, I have to call Richard in on this. How can I speak to him after all this time?”

Maman stands tall and pats Camille on the shoulder, “You will speak to him like the true professional that you are, on even terms and in full possession of your Frenchness. That’s how.”

Camille girds herself, “You’re right, Maman. You’ve been right about everything. I’m going back to the station now to start my investigation. It might come to nothing but…”

“But that little voice he always talked about is speaking to you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Remember Paul Vincent? People change faces for a lot of reasons and 12 million pounds is a pretty good one, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do. Be careful, chérie. I don’t like this woman, whoever she claims to be. The car accident could have been just that… an opportunistic accident. However, it could have been murder. How will you start? What will you do?”

“First I will track down every hospital and clinic, every doctor and ambulance, every witness to the accident. Someone may have noticed a second person in that car. I will trace her path through all the plastic surgery offices. Someone may have a photo. Speaking of photos, that’s something I can ask Richard about. He keeps everything. I bet he still has his old school books. There will be photos in them...”

Catherine catches Camille’s hand just as she stands, “One more thought, chérie. Richard must have rubbed off on me a little bit but I can’t help wondering…”

“Yes?”

“If identity theft and a stolen inheritance did indeed happen, did Helen do it all on her own or did she have a partner? How can a man not know his lover is now someone else? Don’t turn your back on the husband, Camille. Don’t trust him.”

“I won’t, Maman. I’ll be careful. Please don’t worry.”

Catherine watches her daughter charge out into the night, hot on the trail. She sighs and begins cleaning up. _Oh, chérie, I’m not worried about the crime. I’m worried about YOU! Guard yourself. You are just beginning to heal. Don’t let that Englishman stir up old feelings once more_.

She needn’t have bothered. Those old feelings had never settled in the first place so there is no ‘stirring up’ needed.

Croydon

In a sumptuous office on a quiet darkened floor, DCI Richard Poole hangs up his phone and sits for long moments staring into space… then sinks his face into his hands and gasps. It hurts. It hurts so much. Eight months of iron control ruined! All it had taken was the mere sound of her voice and he’d turned to wood… barely verbal wood but wood none the less.

As he hides his face from a cold uncaring scoffing world, he despairs once more. _Oh, Camille! Why did I leave? Things weren’t as bad as all that! I was happy. I should have tried a little harder. I should have told you!_ All his fake stiff-upper-lipness and cool professional demeanor abandons him completely. He slumps onto his desk top and is lost in grief.

Doris slips up the darkened halls, heading for the ‘big ‘uns’ office with her last delivery before her shift is over. Oh, she is so proud of him! He’d left under a cloud and been brought back with all honours and laud! He was the only one who could pull everyone’s irons out of the fire! Poole! It had to be Poole! The higher-ups never pay attention to who pours the tea, do they? Oh, no! She’d heard it all; the desperation, the mad schemes, the ever-increasing frantic search for a solution to the public relations fiasco of the Anderson Incident! She’d waited until absolute silence had fallen in the conference room before placing tea in front of the head honcho and thoughtfully saying, “Y’know, DI Poole was the only one who saw Anderson for what he truly was… AND he was the one to catch the bugger. Now there’s a man you can trust.” She’d gathered up the tea-things and left the room while a stunned revelation seemed to race around the big table. As she’d rolled the tea cart back down the hall, she’d heard excited voices amp up and knew she’d finally done her best for him. (She was wrong about this. Her best is yet to come.) “Bless me, Dickon, I think they heard me,” she’d whispered with satisfaction.

As she taps on his door now, she smiles with quiet pride. Yes, her lamb has come home and look at what he’s done in just a few short months! This station hums like a well-oiled machine. Young ‘uns are learning things the right way. Older ‘uns can finally be true coppers. All due to him. All due to…

She opens the door with the tea-tray in her hands and halts in shock. Her lamb is crying! She slips inside and quickly closes the door. There’s no one else on the floor but her protective instincts kick in none-the-less. The tray is laid on the credenza and she rushes his desk, “Dickon! Oh, Dickon! What’s wrong? Have you had bad news?”

END – part 6


	23. It NEVER Happens!!

Part 7 of ? He hears her voice and holds his hands out blindly. She clasps his shoulders, he buries his face against her side, arms stiff around her waist, and he weeps like a tired child. She pats his shoulder and rubs his back, soothing him like she did with all her children.

It is many minutes before he pulls himself together and sits back up, scrubbing at his face, “Oh, Doris, how awful! I’m so sorry you had to see me like this.” He sniffs and tries to smile.

She bends down and hands him her handkerchief, neatly pressed and folded, “I’m not. Better me than anyone else, hey?” He laughs shakily, nods, and dabs at his eyes. She pulls up a chair and sits down beside him, keeping her hand on his arm while doing so, “Now, can you talk about it? Was it bad news? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He folds and refolds the handkerchief as he studies his desktop, “Um, no, I don’t think so, I’m not sure, I don’t quite know what…” He sighs and hands the handkerchief back, “I just got off the phone with Saint-Marie. She… my former Sergeant… she…”

Doris has a sudden insight, “Camille, you mean?”

His eyes flash to hers then down again but he nods, “Yes. Her. She needs my help with something.” Doris quirks an eyebrow and waits. He sees this and shakes his head, “No, that’s not the problem. I can send the material she needs. It’s not the case. It’s… it’s…” Doris quirks another eyebrow and he blurts out, “It’s HER! Oh, god! I’ve fought so hard every minute of every day of every week not to call her! Not to phone her and ask if she… if we… if I…”

Doris tuts and sits up, “I see.”

He looks up at her with hopeful eyes, “You do? I don’t.”

“Yes, my duck. I knew before you even returned. Our chatty little emails where I kept you abreast of our doings… well, you probably didn’t know it but you were keeping me abreast of your doings as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean her name came up a lot… more and more as time went by. I really hoped she was the reason you were sent into Purgatory all those years ago. No one should be sent to suffer somewhere awful without a good reason, now should they?”

He smiles palely, “It really wasn’t that bad. Other than the hurricanes and the heat, it was quite nice.”

“Uh-huh. So why did you leave? Not that I’m sorry you’re back, mind. You were a breath of fresh air that this place badly needed.” She pats his hand. “Besides, you cleared out all of Dougie’s thuggish tribe. I can’t tell you how happy everyone is now. I hear such things in the caf and it’s all down to you. You’ve really made a difference, Richard.”

He shrugs self-deprecatingly, “Have I? Well, I suppose I have. I’ve tried to make this place over into somewhere I’d like to serve, you know? I never really thanked you for running interference between myself and Anderson. It’s funny now when I think on it, all those excellent insults you used to fling at him in the caf. He never really knew how to handle you, did he?”

“I had nothing to lose, did I? I’m just the caf manager, aren’t I? Everyone else had too much to lose if they stood up to him. It was my pleasure to put him in his place... and you don’t have to thank me. I would have done it anyway. He was such a brute. But I hear a ‘but’ in your voice…”

He struggles with himself. She wonders if he will be able to say it. He scrubs his face once more, “But I had to leave her. The shining promise of promotion, the sweet vindication, and being given this station overran my feelings and I hopped the first plane back to England. It wasn’t until I saw her face receding in the rear-view mirror that I realized…”

Doris pats his shoulder and he sits up straight. “I saw such pain on her face that I almost jumped out of the Commissioner’s car! He was talking and I was writhing in agony and, before I knew it, I was in the air. I wanted to call her but couldn’t from the plane. Once I landed, I just didn’t know what to say. Then I was caught up in the furor here at the station, firing and hiring and moving people around. Once things settled down, I couldn’t seem to find the right time to call. The days were too busy and the nights…” He sighs deeply, “The nights are too painful. So cold. So empty. Then I just got into a daily routine… and somehow eight months have gone by and… well, here I am, still alone and more miserable than ever.”

“Yes, here you are. Now, what are you going to do about it, hmm?”

“What do you mean? What can I do about it? I’m here. She’s there. It’s hopeless.”

“Well, you’re a big important DCI now. Don’t they have them down there in paradise?”

“Well, not very many. For some reason the tropics isn’t a ‘hot spot’ for higher-ups.”

“Mmm-hmmm, more fool them, hey? So, the lack of DCI’s means they don’t need ‘em?”

“Well, yes, they do need them. As a matter of fact…”

“As a matter of fact you’re a big gun now. You can throw your weight around a bit, can’t you? Maybe make some demands of your own? Use this place as a bargaining chip, maybe? What about your former Commissioner? Can’t he throw his weight behind you?”

“Throw his weight? That’s all that man does, wheeling and dealing and pushing Saint-Marie forward by hook or by crook! Come to think, he’s hinted several times that he’d like to climb the political ladder. I wonder if…” Richard drifts off into silence. Doris can see his mind is turning things over so she stands and goes to the credenza, checks the tea-pot beneath its cheerful (self-made) cozy, nods, and brings the tray over to his desk.

As she sits and pours, he turns to her and she happily answers all his questions and lets him bounce ideas off her. _My Dickon_ , she thinks, _there’s no one can touch you when you’re on fire like this._

END – part 7


	24. It NEVER Happens!!

Part 8 of ?

Angela calls Camille the very next morning. Camille can barely hear her as she whispers, “Camille, how did you know? I’m in her bathroom right now and you were right! She has a whole set of contact lenses. BROWN contact lenses! What does it mean?”

“Get out, Angela. Meet me at La Kaz. I have some more questions for you.”

Ten minutes later, both women are huddled over tea. Camille sighs and finally asks her first hard question, “Sorry, Angela, but I need to know. Has James ever hinted that Sasha isn’t really Sasha?”

“What? Not Sasha? Are you saying… oh, god, you think Sasha might really be Helen?”

“Maybe. I have calls out all over Europe trying to trace Helen’s movements leading up to her accident. Can you please tell me again about the argument you heard at the funeral home?” They talk for a long time and Camille finally nods, “OK, it sounds like James was upset with the survivor so that points to him not having anything to do with the accident. My next question is even harder. Was it really an accident or a cleverly disguised murder? Oh, I wish Richard was here. He’d know what to do!”

Angela puts her hand over Camille’s, “You can do this. He was here for two years, yes? You were learning from him that whole time. What would he do in your shoes?”

“Sit here drinking tea and moan about the weather!”

Angela laughs, “Besides that, I mean.”

Camille thinks furiously, “He would tell me not to rush like a bull through a china shop. Not to ask Sasha right to her face if she’s really Sasha or not! He would dig and dig and circle around like a lion in the grass until he has all the evidence he needs to jug her up good and proper!”

“Then that’s what you should do.”

“But rushing like a bull is so much faster!”

“But he wasn’t like that, was he?”

“No, he wasn’t. Hmmm, I don’t know. It could take days for my calls to be returned. When are you due to leave the island?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well then, I can’t wait. I’m going to rush like the bull. It’s always worked in the past.” Now Camille twists her hands uncertainly and shoots Angela a guarded look, “Umm… I called him last night.”

Angela stills, “Him? Richard? You did?! What did he say? What did YOU say? Tell me!”

Camille frowns, “He barely spoke at all. He can be as wooden as a tree when he puts his mind to it. I don’t think he said more than two words to me during the whole conversation. He promised support in my investigation. Other than that, he hung up on me without a goodbye or by your leave.” Camille covers her eyes, “Oh, Angela, I think he’s truly moved on. I’m out of his life and that’s just the way it is.”

Angela leans forward and pats Camille’s back, “Isn’t that just like a man? Give him a new job and a new office and he moves on to greener pastures. Well, if he’s too dim to realize how wonderful you are then it’s his loss.” She sits back with a low laugh, “Just imagine if he were to come back now, all apologetic and begging your forgiveness on bended knee!”

Camille stares into Angela’s eyes for an agonized moment then bursts out laughing, “Yeah! Let’s imagine that for a moment, shall we? He comes in here, dragging his suitcase behind him, begging me to take him back. What will I do, do you think?”

Now Angela is laughing, “Oh, I don’t know… knock him down then forgive him maybe?”

Camille wipes her eyes, visions of broken furniture strewn about and the huge kiss that would be happening right in the middle of it all, “Yeah! Let’s go with that polite version of what would probably happen. Oh, Angela, you make it all feel better than it really is! I’m so glad you’re here to help me deal with this. I was really worried, you know? I was ready to leave the island and disappear. Now I’m thinking I need to take everything he taught me and put it to good use. This is my home, after all. It needs a protector!”

“Right! And if not him then it has to be you.”

“Right! OK. I’m going to pay a visit to this so-called Sasha and see if I can’t shake something loose. You’d better stay here. I don’t want her to suspect that you’re involved. It might not be safe for you if she thinks you’re on to her.”

Angela catches Camille’s hand, “Is it safe for you? If she’s threatened, she might…”

Camille pats Angela’s hand, “Don’t worry. I’ve faced killers before.” The brief image of William flashes through her mind but she dismisses it. After all, she survived that attack.

As she walks out La Kaz’s door, she is forgetting one very important thing about the memory of Williams’ deadly hands around her throat.

Richard had been there to prevent a successful murder.

END – part 8


	25. It NEVER Happens!!

Part 9 of ?

Richard sits at his desk, his door half open so he can hear every nuance of his (new) team working around him like an efficient engine of justice. He smiles at this, chastising himself for waxing poetic when he should be trying to figure out some way to call Camille and tell her… tell her…

His unexpected heart-to-heart with Doris had settled one thing in his mind. He has to go back. He simply has to. He can’t stay here and die of a broken heart. He can’t ignore the possibility that he’s misread the situation and that there might be the tiniest chance that she returns his regard. He has to know. He has to solve this… the biggest puzzle of his life… the puzzle that IS his life.

Simply put… does Camille love him as much as he loves her? Easy. One simple sentence. How hard can it be? As he sits and watches the rain course down his window, his heart twists and he knows very well how hard it can be. He’d spent 2 years… wasted 2 years… trying to convince himself that he wasn’t hopelessly in love. All for naught. He IS in love. He can’t deny it for one moment longer.

He shifts in his chair and thinks about the conversation he’d had with Selwyn Patterson not an hour ago. The conversation that could change his life. The conversation that could SAVE his life. He knows in his heart of hearts that he can trust Selwyn. The man is a devious, conniving, cunning, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth trickster but if he is in your corner then what could possibly stand in your way? Together, he is sure they can swing it. There isn’t anything that man doesn’t know about twisting the circumstances to his benefit. If anyone can manage a miracle it’s Selwyn Patters…

The phone rings. Richard answers it absent-mindedly, his thoughts elsewhere.

When he comes back to himself, he is standing bolt upright and shuddering as if dying. There is a roaring in his head and he is ice-cold. His left hand claps up over his breast and a piercing pain lances through his chest as he hears a voice cry out, “Stabbed? How? Who? Is she all right?”

His administrative assistant rushes in, alarmed. DCI Poole never raises his voice! Never! He doesn’t have to. She stands anxiously, scared at what she sees on his face. The man is livid, eyes deadly as he nods and listens to whatever doom is funneling into his ear. He grinds out, “All right. I’m on my way. Will you pick me up? Good. I’ll text you with my ETA.” He slams down the phone and pivots to face her, “Get me on the next plane to Saint-Marie! I don’t care how you do it but get me there right now!!” His eyes burn like fire.

She whirls like a dancer and he is right at her elbow as she gets the information, “There’s a flight leaving in less than an hour but…”

He is putting on his jacket, checking his passport, filling his pockets, “Fine. Book it. Call me a taxi.” He is rushing away.

She chases after him, “But sir! What about luggage? What about…”

“Don’t care!” his voice echoes up the hall and he is gone.

Moments later there is the lone bang of a door. He’s taken the stairs.

She calls a taxi but the driver comes up minutes later to ask where his fare is. She doesn’t know. He must have commandeered one in the street. Something tells her he would have raced away on foot if he had to. Something very bad has happened.

END – part 9


	26. It NEVER Happens!! - part 10

Part 10 of ?

Angela sits by a hospital bed, holding a very still, very cold, very pale hand when she feels a thunder-clap of air crash into the room. She twists in her chair to see… a man… a man she doesn’t recognize in the least. A man haggard and haunted but his eyes are blazing brilliant green like strobe-lights and that is her only clue as to his identity.

She shoots to her feet, relief and fear and surprise and love washing over her; relief that he is here to take over, fear at the absolute killing rage on his face, surprise that he got here so fast, and love... well, the heart is a foolish thing, isn’t it?.

Those eyes are pinned to the face that belongs to the still cold pale hand. Angela holds out her own hand towards him and he rushes in, falling to his knees at the bed-side. She places Camille’s hand into his and he presses his face to it and utters a low cry.

Angela looks up as she grips Richard’s shoulders. There is a very large shadow standing just outside. It is another man who wants to come in but hesitates. Angela leaves the bed-side and goes out into the hall. The man doffs his hat and says, “You must be Angela Birkett. I am Police Commissioner Patterson. I called Richard. I understand you found her?”

“Yes. I knew something was wrong when she didn’t answer her phone. I called the house and James told me Camille wasn’t there. Well, I knew that couldn’t be right. Camille always does what she says, doesn’t she?” The Commissioner nods. “So I called the station but Catherine heard me and we all ended up going to the house. It was awful. They were just loading her into their car when we pulled up. Fidel tackled James in the driveway. Dwayne cuffed Sasha… or should I say Helen? I don’t know anymore. Catherine started screaming and I kind of lost track of things after that. I do know I’m the one who called 911. Thank goodness Catherine has Emergency First Aid and CPR training. It took all four of us to handle the situation and then the ambulance came and…”

She turns to look back through the doorway. Richard has crawled onto the bed and is cradling Camille in his arms, whispering something to her. Angela is pretty sure she knows what he’s saying. She meets the Commissioner’s eyes a bit guiltily, “I… um… I used to have a ‘thing’ for him, back in our school days. I thought I was over it but it still hurts a little bit. The heart is a strange thing sometimes.”

The big man nods and puts an arm around her shoulders, leads her to some chairs out in the hallway and sits her down, “Where are the others?”

“Dwayne and JP are manning the station. Fidel is processing evidence and harassing the Forensics Office on Guadeloupe. Catherine and I have been here all night. She’s asleep down the hall. The poor woman is beside herself. She says it’s all her fault, that she warned Camille about the husband but…”

Patterson sits up, “So was it the husband who stabbed her?”

“We don’t know. Camille hasn’t regained consciousness and Fidel hasn’t gotten the reports he’s so desperate to receive. Whatever the weapon was, it was very narrow and sharp… just missed her heart by a fraction. The doctor won’t say a thing about her chances.”

She looks towards the door, “What a horrible mess! How awful that he finally comes back only to lose her after all.”

“Yes. Death is so permanent even here in paradise. Funny how things work out. He and I were on the phone not 12 hours ago making plans for his return. Now he’s back and the sole reason for that might fade away despite all our prayers and best-laid plans.” He pauses and looks over Angela’s shoulder. Angela looks and jumps to her feet.

Richard is watching them with a totally unreadable look on his face. She takes a step towards him but he holds up a shaky hand, “Where’s the doctor? I want to speak to the doctor,” he hisses.

“I’ll get him,” Angela whispers and hurries away. She can’t stand to look into those mad eyes for another moment!

Richard turns to Selwyn, “Who did this? Do we know yet?”

Selwyn sighs, “I can only repeat what I told you in the car. Helen and James Moore were apprehended at the scene putting Camille into their car. Roger Sadler was asleep upstairs.”

Poole’s voice is icy, “Drunk?”

Selwyn nods, “Until Officer Best tells us otherwise, she was stabbed by a person or persons unknown.”

Richard shakes both fists, “They will claim they were trying to get her to the hospital. If she doesn’t wake then everything will depend upon my… your… your team’s skills and scrupulous procedure.”

The Commissioner grabs Richard’s wrists, “Please, calm yourself. These officers learned from the best, did they not? They know what is at stake here. They will not fail us.”

Richard wrests himself free and turns to see Angela and Dr. Johnson hurrying up. Dr. Johnson takes Richard by the shoulder and walks him up the hallway a bit. A very subdued conversation takes place in mime. Finally, Richard nods wearily and Dr. Johnson leaves.

Richard comes back to them, rubs a hand over his face, “There’s nothing more they can do. She will either live or die and we simply have to wait. I’m going back in.” He glares at Selwyn, “I don’t suppose you’ll let me anywhere near the suspects?”

Selwyn is stony-faced, “Under no circumstances are you to involve yourself in this case. You are here solely as the…” he cocks his head at Richard who frowns “… as a concerned friend of the family. Catherine will be awake soon. She may not be very understanding of your presence. It’s hard to know the mind of a French Maman.”

Richard sighs, “All right. May I use the beach-house once more if I have to?”

“Do you still have the key?”

“No need. I can climb in through any window or come up through the trap-door under the carpet.”

“There’s a trap-door? How on earth did you find it?”

“Same way I found out about everything on this island… totally against my will and as a complete surprise.” He goes back up the hall, pauses at the door, and takes a deep breath before entering.

Angela turns to Selwyn, “I’ll stay with him and try to make sure he doesn’t keel over. I’ll let you know if anything happens.” She pauses and wonders if she really has to say this, “He loves her, you know. He isn’t good at showing his emotions but…”

Selwyn’s big warm hand is on her arm, “I know, dear. The whole island knows. The only ones that didn’t know are the two principle parties involved. Life is funny, neh?”

As she watches the uniform march away, Angela murmurs, “Neh,” and sits back down to give Richard his privacy with Camille.

There’s so much she has always wanted to say to him but now it’s all moot. He loves Camille. It’s an open and shut case. Now Camille will either live or die. Then Richard must decide is HE will either live or die.

_As for me?_ She groans. _I will live. Of course, I will. I’ll carry on as I have all these years except now I know there’s no hope…_

She stops musing as a horrible thought slithers unbidden into her head. Her heart stutters and she is once more on her feet. _This is how is happens! This is EXACTLY how it happens!_ her brain whispers in stomach-churning wonder. _There is some tragedy and if you’re quick then you can turn it to your advantage. Sasha died and Helen saw her chance. James had to decide and he took the chance he deemed best._

Ice water flushes through her as she stifles a cry behind both hands. _And me? Me? Is this MY chance? If Camille dies then… then he will be all alone once more… and he will need… need…_

“NO!” she shouts then lowers her voice and says again, “No. I won’t go down that same road. I won’t!” She listens very carefully to the silence all around her. Her hands drop just enough for her lips to whisper, “Am I that kind of person? Am I? Could I do such an awful thing? Would I?” Visions of Richard swim up from deep recesses in her memory… and she feels sickened. She knows. She knows absolutely.

She forces herself to move. It’s either that or throw up all over this quiet little hall. She stalks stiffly and almost passes the doorway but halts briefly to look in, just to see her heart’s desire once more, and freezes.

She stands like a statue and gazes at the man she loves… as he begins a low broken keening.

He lifts his head off a stilled heart and his crazed eyes meet hers.

Across a huge gulf, two lost souls regard one another in a crashing vacuum of sound.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, this is where the story ended... the first time. If you like bleak endings with lots of unanswered questions, then stop reading right here. There can always be another chapter to a story and this one is no exception. After-thought chapter 11 coming up next Friday.**


	27. It NEVER Happens!!

Chapter 11

It is two weeks later.

Angela has checked out of her hotel and now she sits out on his beach house veranda and drinks a farewell cup of tea with utmost calm. She loves it here. Not just because HE is here but because the whole world seems to rest easy here. The waves. The sand. The ever-changing light and colour. She absolutely loves it. She could spend the rest of her life just living on this beach and be happy.

After the past weeks’ shocks and alarums, she desires it greatly; sit here, drink tea, be happy.

Footsteps approach from behind and she turns her head to watch him emerge from his home. She studies him, looking for signs. He is pale, anxious, resigned, determined, and blissfully happy. She nods to herself and looks away once more. She feels the same way, more or less, with perhaps a touch more resignation and a lot less bliss.

She turns back to him and smiles, “Off again, are you?”

He sits once more and picks up his tea, “Yes. She starts physio-therapy today. I need to be there to make sure she gives it her all. She’s very French and very stubborn. She will try to beg off and, if I’m not there to back up the therapist, there’s no telling how much longer her hospital stay will be.”

She notes the quiet pride in his voice. Camille’s ‘Frenchness’ no longer seems to be a problem for him. “I see,” she says and has to admit, “She IS very stubborn, isn’t she, but I can’t imagine her wanting to stay in a wheelchair for one moment longer than necessary, can you?”

He shakes his head resolutely, “No-oh, absolutely not. Now she can add ‘stabbed’ to her long list of accomplishments. As a matter of fact…” he pauses a moment then leans forward to whisper, “… as a matter of fact, I intend to give her added incentive today.” He sits back up and frowns, “At least… I hope it’s added incentive.”

Angela sighs, senses what’s coming but asks anyway, “And what would that be, pray tell?”

His eyes are full of gentlemanly reserve, “I intend to propose. Dr. Johnson assures me she is strong enough to withstand the shock.” He smiles to himself.

Angela has to laugh, “I see. And do you always take your doctor’s recommendations?”

“He’s a good friend as well as an excellent doctor so, yes, I do. I told him to stand by with the crash-cart though, just in case.”

“Do you seriously think she’ll need it?”

His eyes dance, “It’s not for her.”

Angela smiles at his little joke and nods. She’s happy he’s happy. She just wishes it didn’t hurt quite so much. “Any idea when she can go home?”

He shakes his head and finishes his tea, “That all depends on many things. If she’s still in a wheelchair then she’ll have to find a new place to stay, something all on one level. If she accepts my proposal then I’ll start looking for someplace new right away. I’ll miss this little shack but it was only ever a way-station for me, never a permanent home. Perhaps my new home will also be on a beach. Who knows?”

Angela’s hand covers his, “Oh, Richard! Will she walk again?”

He sighs, “We’ll know more once the therapy is under way. She is VERY stubborn, as we both know. At any rate, it doesn’t matter, not to me. If I have to push her around for the rest of my life then I will bloody well do it. It will be my penance for leaving her… for leaving the island. It’s a small price to pay to have her in my life and I will gladly pay it every day.”

“I know you will. You are still the best person I know, the perfect gentleman. She’s a very lucky woman. It was that luck that had you at her side when…” She hushes, remembering.

Now his hand is over hers, “Yes. Yes, it was. She was even luckier that you were looking right at me when I realized her heart had stopped. If not for your immediate clarion call for help…” He hushes in turn, swallowing dryly.

“I WAS there… and you were there… and the doctor got there in time. So, Richard, all is well…”

He smiles and completes the statement, “… and all manner of things are well.”

They watch the sea for a while then he stands, “You’ll lock up when you leave, yes?” She nods. Her flight leaves in two hours. “Good. Um, Angela?” She looks at him. “I never really thanked you for all you did. Not just here… I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough for that… but for all your help in the past. I know I wasn’t a very easy person to be around then… and I never meant to hurt you… you know… when you told me about how you felt all those years ago.”

She looks down, “I know. We can’t help feeling what we feel, can we? But she loves you much more than I ever did, I think. I like her. I like her a lot. She’d be a fool to refuse you. She’s stubborn and French but no fool. Good luck on your life together. Send me word when you’re married, will you? I’ll toast you in London. I’ll stand out in the cold rain and toast you both here in paradise.”

They hear a taxi pull up and beep at the kitchen door. Richard bends down and kisses her for the one and only time. She lets it brush her cheek with iron will. As he stands back up, he says, “Thank you. It means a lot that we can still be friends despite our history.”

“You’d better go. Island taxis are hard to get back once they lose patience and scarper.”

He laughs as he bounds down the steps, waving to the cab driver, “Oh, don’t I know it! Goodbye, Angela. Take care of yourself. You deserve a long quiet rest after THIS vacation, neh?” A final wave and he is gone.

She settles back into her chair. “Neh,” she whispers and thinks, Right… a very long quiet rest. She glances at her watch and decides she has a few more minutes to enjoy the scenery. She will meet Roger at the airport and they will go home… go home without the rest of their original party. Honestly, she thinks, who could have predicted this? What a tangled case it had turned into! She will follow it with professional curiosity as well as personal avidness. The other lawyers in her office are agog for details! None of them have ever been intimately embroiled in murder before! She smiles. It isn’t as much fun as people think. Not like a television show at all.

Roger… her mind turns on his name. Yes, Roger. He’s quite the changed man now. She doesn’t think he’s had a single drop to drink since he woke up to the furor over Camille’s attack. In fact, he’s a much nicer man now that James and Sash… Helen… are out of the picture. Thinking back, Angela wonders if she ever really liked those two at all? Or did she merely put up with them because of Richard?

Richard. Yes, Richard. It has always been about Richard.

Even this. This entire mad scheme to whisk the old team down here was only to meet up with Richard once again. Then discovering he’d left. Then discovering his relationship with Camille. Then discovering that she LIKED Camille. Then… Oh. ALL of it. It was all about Richard.

Especially this last act. She groans and allows one tiny tear to escape before dashing it away and standing up to bid farewell to his beach. Her legal training had stood her in very good stead throughout. You have to show the world your game-face and never let them see you cry.

As she makes a call and waits for her taxi beneath the trees, she thinks again about something that her grandmother drummed into her head at a very young age. It was an old saying but clichés become clichés because they are true.

Love makes sacrifice possible.

True love makes it bearable.

END – for real this time


End file.
